#and I’m saving up to ask this guy I met to make me a custom tool bag for my brushes

[squirrel-here]

I love supporting artists I love buying local I love going through the local market and finding things I didn’t know existed, and keeping an eye on things I might want later so I know where to spend my money

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

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They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

MY HERO

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

PAIRING: nerdy!Harry x bartender!reader

WARNING: bit of a fight, blood

SUMMARY: Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a Friday night, which means the bar is packed with college students, celebrating that they survived yet another week of the semester. There’s no empty table, the line at the bar seems never ending and the noise is way louder than the music playing through the speakers. A lot of your coworkers hate to work Friday and Saturday, because they hate the crowd, but you’re kind of okay with it. It keeps you busy, time passes by faster and the tips are always good, drunk college guys like to pay double for their drinks just to prove they have money, only to wake up with an empty wallet in the morning. But that’s not your business.

You haven’t sat down in hours, the rush was too big to have one less person behind the bar, so you’re a tad bit frustrated, but still holding on. Most of the crowd looks familiar to you, you see them almost every week, you could maybe even tell their major as well. You know what they usually drink and how they act whenever they had one too many beers. But there’s one person you know the most about and when you see him walk in your mood brightens immediately.

Harry has been a returning customer for the past two months or so. You still remember the first time he came in and asked for a double shot, you watched him take it and almost throw it up. He admitted he’s never taken a double and can barely force down a beer usually. He sat at the bar that night and you talked and talked until it was closing time.

He returned the next night, asked for a water and stayed until closing again.

You’ve gotten to know him well since then, he is the sweetest, kindest soul and the most amazing guy you’ve ever met. He likes to hide behind his glasses and books, he tends to stammer when he gets nervous and his nose twitches when he tastes something he doesn’t like.

When you started bartending you promised yourself not to fall for any guy. Well, Harry is not just any guy.

As you finish up an order you keep an eye on Harry and watch him fight his way to the bar, fixing his glasses when he finally makes it through the crowd. You give the drinks out and turn to him smiling.

“Hi, fancy a drink?” you ask, ignoring the whiny people who’s been waiting in line and were cut off by Harry.

“Hi! Y-Yeah, thank you,” he smiles back and you’re quick to make him a virgin cocktail.

He stays by the bar and keeps you company whenever you have a moment to talk. You ask him about his exam a few days ago and he asks if you’ve gotten your AC fixed already.

“No, the guy I had check it out gave me an insane offer, so I’m still saving up.”

“How much?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, but you know where he will end up, so you just smile at him and shake your head.

“Harry, I told you, I don’t want you to pay for it.”

“Hey! Get your sexy ass over here and serve us!” A voice calls out from across the bar and it makes the hair stand on your arms, but you force a smile on your face.

“I’ll be right back, Harry.” Walking across the bar you stand in front of the clearly drunk guy you’ve seen around here quite a few times before and he likes to give the bartenders a hard time whenever he is in the mood.

“What can I get you?” you ask looking at him while he is clearly looking at your chest.

“Three vodka shots and a beer. Make sure to bend down for that beer!” he laughs, the two other guy with him joining in, patting him on the back.

“I’ll shove up those shots into your dirty ass,” you mumble under your breath as you start pouring the drinks.

“If I double your tip will you get rid of that top?” he grins, still very much eyeing your breasts.

“Hey, if you don’t want spit in your drink, stop being an asshole!” You stop mumbling and this time you articulate it quite loud and clear.

“It’s a spicy one!” he whistles, still not taking you seriously. “I’ll take the second shot from your big mouth!” He holds one of the shots up and gulps it down.

“Alright, get the fuck out!” You grab the rest of the order and toss it into the sink, this finally gets his attention.

“Hey! You fucking bitch!”

“I said get out! The bar is closed for you!”

“I’m not going anywhere! You better give me free shots and a fucking blowjob to make up for the shit you did!”

“Hey, s-she said you have to leave!”

Harry is standing next to the guy, standing up for you, but you can tell he is terrified of the three guys.

“What? Is she your bitch or something?”

“Harry, don’t—“

“Don’t talk about her like that! She is—“

“This little nerd is in love with the hot bartender! You think you have a chance with her? She is just a cheap bitch who probably sucks off anyone for a fat tip.”

The moment is so surreal that you watch it frozen at first. Harry moves forward and pushes the guy, not too hard but since he’s drunk he stumbles backwards and it riles him up. The next thing you see is that he swings a fist at Harry and it meets with his nose. That’s what snaps you out of your frozen state.

It’s a shitshow from there, you climb over the bar to get between them and punch the drunk guy before he could get another hit in and this time he falls to the ground. His friends are about to pull him up and go against me, but another group of guys get involved and there’s six of them so they easily pull the troublemaker away from you, dragging them out of the bar.

Turning around you look at Harry who is holding his hand to his nose that’s bleeding and guilt starts eating you away right away, because he got hurt because of you.

“Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You curl one of his arms around your shoulders and bring him to the back and away from the curious crowd. Reaching the changing room you sit him down to the bench and run off just for a moment to get a wet towel and an icepack for him.

“Look at me, let me see it.” You take his face in your hands gently and he hesitates before moving his hand away.

His glasses sit crooked on his nose that’s red and bloody, but as far as you can tell it’s not broken. Carefully, you take his classes off and start to pat his face gently to get the blood off.

He looks devastated and like a shadow of his usual self.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Just a little,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“You’re sorry? Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“For what?” you chuckle, tossing the towel to the floor and replacing it with the icepack. Harry winces and pushes it away. “For defending me? For standing up for me?”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect you. I wasn’t…”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he was meaning to say. He wasn’t manly enough.

“Harry,” you exhale, putting the icepack to the side before taking his hands back into your hands. “What you did was… the bravest and most heroic thing anyone has ever did for me. You stood up for me even though you’re the last person to ever get into a fight and look at you, you almost got your nose broken for me!”

“I think you actually broke his face though, so you were the real hero,” he chuckles softly and he is finally returning, the sunshine, the warmth, it’s all back.

“You’re the hero, Harry Styles. And heroes deserve… a reward.”

You smile at him coyly, moving a little closer so he knows what you’re planning to do, giving him a chance to move away, but when he doesn’t, just looks at you intently, you finally press your lips against his.

You’ve been aching to do it for so long, the sweet, handsome, nerdy guy completely stole your heart from across the bar and now you finally have him all to yourself. You’re not even surprised that he is an amazing kisser, his soft lips move so perfectly with yours, you wonder what else they can do.

The kiss gets a little more heated and your nose brushes against his, which makes him wince and pull back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” you cover your mouth with your hand, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s just a little sore.”

“Maybe we should get it checked out in a hospital.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Cheering is heard from outside and you realize you should get back to work, the rush is still not over.

“Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll be off the clock in an hour. Maybe you could… walk me home?”

“Yes! Yes, I-I… yes, I would love to walk you home.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm and leaning in you kiss him, careful not to hurt him.

“Alright, my hero.” You take his glasses and put them back on, fixing them so they sit straight. One last time you kiss him shortly and go back to work, smiling crazily for the next hour.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[sunnyangy]

hi, it's great to find blogs on wbk, I really loved your writing. If it's ok, could you do relationship hcs for Sakura? Thank you!

hello ! thank you so muchhh i’m glad you like my writing :) here you go for Sakura !

Relationship Headcanons 🍃

- Sakura 🌼

• You met when you were walking on a street after buying your groceries, but he noticed a group of men following you. He came up to them as they pushed you against a wall. He beat them all up, before helping you get up without a word. He simply then left.

• After some days, as you were working with Kotoha in the cafe, a group of boys from Fuurin came in. You quickly recognized the split colored hair boy, and his golden eye.

• By the advice of Kotoha, you went up to him, gifting him an omurice. He looked up at you weirdly, seeming embarassed.

« Thank you !.. you saved me a few days ago !.. » you said, bowing to him to show respect and thankfulness.

« W-What ?! I didn’t do this for you ! Guys like this make me sick to my stomach ! »

• Days after days, he came often to the cafe with his friends, and everytime you would gift him something to eat. Everytime he is annoyed with you, telling you he doesn’t want it. But everytime, he ends up finishing the meal.

• After some months, you started to be the one to fall for him. You always found his blush adorable, as he always tried to push you off but his face said otherwise.

• One day, you got bothered by some dudes again after you had a mentally tiring day. Sakura was once again around and made them leave, but you fell on your knees, crying because this was too much for you to handle on this day. He got concerned and came to check over you, but in a second, you put your arms around his neck, crying against his vest. At first he didn’t know how to react, and just put his arms around you, hesitating. But when he understood you found comfort against him, he felt this nice sensation in his heart, that he was helping you. And he was happy that someone relied on him, and considered him as an emotional support.

• He gently kissed your forehead in an attempt to soothe you. Since then, he was always kinder to you whenever he came to the cafe, always calmer and more affectionate with you, even if his behavior was still grumpy and seemingly indifferent.

• You were the one to ask him out, as you saw there was something between you two, but he was way too troubled to tell you himself. When you asked him alone in a corner of the cafe, he started stumbling on his words, like he was mad, but his cheeks were absolutely red. You put your hands on his cheeks to stop his movements, which made him shut up and look in your eyes. As you saw his eyes quickly glance to your lips, you decided to make your move and kiss him. He didn’t deny it, and in fact even deepened it almost immediately.

• Sakura will always treat you like his friends, sometimes shouting at you for teasing him.

• He is pretty distant but will be there if you need him, and he knows it goes both ways. He never talks about his feelings, even if he trusts you with it.

• He doesn’t really have a love language, as he struggles to show affection or even accept that you’re in a relationship with him. But, sometimes he takes over his ego and tries to find some gifts for you, to help you, to do whatever he thinks could make you happy. He will also always take care of you, make sure you’re okay.

• He is VERY protective, and even if he doesn’t show it, he is jealous. He doesn’t like when the guys of his group make small talk with you, or if a customer tries to talk to you too.

• Once, a customer (who wore Fuurin’s uniform) tried to get your number. Safe to say he was dragged by his collar outside, Sakura holding his vest with his eyes staring at him.

« Don’t EVER. Try to talk to her like that again. Got it ?!. She. is. mine. »

• Since then he shows more affection towards you, holding your hand or your waist if you’re in public, just finding a way to show you are his.

• Surprisingly is often over at your place, even if he claims it’s because « the water doesn’t want to get warm » and « the plumber still didn’t come ».

• You’re the only one who manages to make him smile and laugh often, and it’s one of the most beautiful sight and feeling.

• Always shouts when you pull some pranks on him, chasing you around.

• Has the habit of always showing you tiktoks on his phone or videos that he finds funny.

• Secretely watches videos on date ideas, gift ideas, or tips on how to be a good boyfriend.

• Since being his girlfriend, you discovered he actually is very talkative, but always in an annoyed way. He grumbles to himself a lot.

• When you sleep together, he always takes much space, his arm and leg over you. Aaaand he snores. And twitches in his sleep. But when he wakes up, he HAS to get a good morning kiss.

• Sakura is overall a good boyfriend but who has no experience. He is willing to learn because he wants to keep you, the girl who makes him feel appreciated, and makes him feel like he has a purpose, like he has someone to help and care about. Because of you, he knows he’s not alone.

[justagirl-with-aphone]

~The coffee shop in my heart~

fem!coffee shop employee x Prohero!Bakugo

Just 3 more hours, you thought to yourself. 3 more hours and I get to go home and snuggle with my cat. You sigh, wiping up the remains of a broken glass a kid dropped on the floor. You’ve been working since 6am, its now 3pm, and understandably, you weren’t a bundle of sunshine right about now. A hectic day filled with entitled customers, and screeching little demons kids running wild, and your shitty boss on top of everything else. The only think keeping you going is the vacation you were almost saved up for, just a few more days of dealing with this bullshit and beach here I come!!

Returning to your spot at the cash register, you continue taking peoples orders. “YOU BITCH, THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED, GIVE ME A REFUND AND MAKE ME SOMETHING ELSE.” an angry man screamed at you, entitled people are just the best... 

“Sir, as I said several times, as much as I would hate love to fix your issue, I’m just the cashier here, I’m not the one who made your drink. However, cannot give you a refund if that is exactly what you ordered, you asked for a white chocolate mocha, and that’s what you got. We do not give refunds if you don’t like the drink. We give refunds if there’s a mistake, allergy concern, or if the drink was made wrong. Now please either step to the side or vacate the premises, you’re holding up the line.” It took everything in you to remain polite to the man screaming in your face, if he didn’t like white chocolate mochas, why would he order one? You questioned, annoyed as hell. 

Said man, ignoring everything you just said, continues to demand a refund, screaming at you for the next few minutes. Everyone else in line left from the scene, but the familiar chime of the bell above the door rings, indicating a new customer. Too busy to greet said customer, you ask the man to leave again, getting fed up with his shit. 

“Oi” a gruff voice booms, catching yours and the mans attention. 

“What do you want-” the man spins around to confront the man interrupting his tantrum only to freeze in place. 

“Leave. Now. I got places to fuckin’ be.” The ash blonde man voices, menacingly. 

The male Karen stomps out, admitting defeat. Wanting to thank your savior, you take a look at him, only to be met with piercing vermilion eyes. The man was tall, and was on the bulkier side with ash blonde hair. he came dressed in a black sweatshirt and some tech-wear pants. He was hot. “You gonna fucking take my order, or are you gonna keen drooling?” Then man asks sarcastically, apparently you zoned out. You roll your eyes at the remark and scoff, patience running thin from your encounters earlier. 

“What do you want?” you ask, no longer using your cheery customer service voice, you were drained. 

“Coffee. Black.” the man states, pulling out his sleek black card. 

“I need a name please,” you write the order and give it to the barista.

“Bakugo.” Bakugo states gruffly. nice name, you note. While your coworker is in the back making the drink, you’re left to make small talk. 

“I wanted to thank you for earlier, he wasn’t the most pleasant.” your customer service voice back on in full swing. 

“Cut that shit out. Its annoying as hell.” You look at the man confused, a little irritated. “The act dipshit.” So much for thanking him...

“And here I thought you were a nice guy helping me out by getting rid of the man. But I guess first impressions aren’t everything now are they?” you question, looking at the man. “Since you don’t want the “act,” this is what I think. I rather be anywhere but here dealing with your obnoxiousness rude self centered ass.” Grabbing the cup from your coworker, you hand it to him with a cheery fake smile and voice “Have a great rest of your day.” walking to the kitchen and exiting out the back door. Finally your shift was over. 

You were surprised the man they called Bakugo never reported what you said to your manager. What surprised you EVEN more was when he came back the next day... and the next... and the next...It became a daily thing, this went on for about 2 months. Everyday, he would walk in, order a black coffee, and annoy the shit out of you an hour. But the most surprising thing out of all of this is you started to like him being there. 

“Oi, dumbass” Bakugo greeted, in his own, interesting way.

“What’s this? No more “extra”? I’ve upgraded” You feign shock. Bakugo rolls his eyes and asks for his usual.

You feel a pair of eyes on you. While your taking Bakugo’s order, come to think of it, you’ve felt eyes on you all day. Confused by the attention, you turn to meet eyes with the man. The same guy who cussed you out before. Looking at the man, you weren’t mentally prepared for what this motherfucker was about to do. He picked up a glass of water, looked you dead in the eye and dumped it on the table. 

You were going to kill him.

You ball your hands into a fist, resisting the urge to punch his lights out. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit. ” As you’r about to walk over there with the rag you retrieved, a certain blonde snagged the rag from your hands, stomping over to where the guy sat. “Clean it the fuck up.” Bakugo growls, throwing the rag at him. ‘You thought he would’ve learned his lesson the first time, but apparently not.’ You thought to yourself while watching the man clean up the mess he made...

[afreakingdork]

Crush Too Much - Part 17

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings: Longing, Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis:  So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something more than you bargained for.

FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS

“Ahem, my apologies for the delay. I’m sure you’re all curious why I’ve gathered you here today.”

Maneuvering around the couch with his nose buried into his notes, Donatello took a commanding spot in front of the projector. Tossing his head back and adjusting his neck, he prepared to launch into his annoucement when he noticed his family had not taken notice of his appearance.

“And that’s when Mrs. Sidorov’s cat was saved from where he got stuck in the drain pipe!” April had her phone held up high.

“Graham Cracker was really ok?” Raph sniffled as he poured himself over the back of the couch to get a better look.

“Yup! You know, some of my coworkers hate doing puff pieces, but when you’re a field reporter it’s kinda a nice reprieve from all the typical crazy.” From her crook sofa seat, April turned her head and softened at the tears in Raph’s eyes. “Aw, Raph! He's ok! Look, I got another one of him with Mrs. S.”

“Graham Cracker is a terrible name for the cat.” Leo shook his head from where he was taking up a third of the couch.

“No way! Food names are the best pet names!” Mikey waved a hand from where he was twisted with his legs hanging over the armrest in the final sofa position.

“You’re too far away to make that judgment and I didn’t say that.”  Leo leaned over his little brother’s head. “It’s a gray cat.”

“Then-” Mikey started and stopped, squinting. “Not brown or tan or even tortoiseshell?”

“Ahem.”

“When you’re right, you’re right. The cat’s gray.” April spoke matter-of-factly.

“You guys don’t get it! Graham Cracker is perfect just the way he is.” Raph huffed, kneeling down so his chin rested on the back of the couch.

“Cough, cough!”

“More like purr-fect!” Leo chuckled, reaching around to pat his older brother on the head.

Donatello slammed a hand against the projector screen which wobbled against the wall.

Leo turned his attention languidly. "Finally, do you know how long we’ve been waiting?”

“Do you-!?” Donnie hissed before catching himself. He took a deep breath and released it while flicking his hands to rid himself of the irritation. “As I said before, I’m sure you’re all curious why I summoned you!” 

“Actually I was wondering why we’re having a family meeting without dad…” Raph tipped his head from amongst the couch cushions.

“Oh yeah! Where is he anyway?” Mikey wiggled around until his head was butted up against Leo’s thigh.

Donatello thread his fingers and pointed two of them out. "I have distracted our esteemed father with an HD cut of his favorite shows and this isn’t necessarily a family meeting, if you-”

“Wouldn’t he be in here if he was watching his shows?” April leaned forward and motioned to the recliner.

“Raph, dare you to go sit in it!” From where his arm was still slung over the back of the couch, Leo poked his older brother.

“Dad’s chair!?” Raph slunk back further behind the couch.

Mikey snickered. “Maybe by thirty you’ll be brave enough!”

“If it’s so….” Raph’s head popped back up along with an accusatory finger. “Such not a big deal then why don’t you go sit in it!?”

All three members of the couch clammed up.

“I-I’m just so comfortable, I mean look at me!” Mikey cross his legs and gave an awkward smile.

Donatello slapped a hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face. “This was a terrible idea. You’re all dismissed.”

“Sweet!” Leo snapped to his feet until April caught his bandana tails.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She tugged down and he bent backwards at the movement. “I’m sure Donnie has something really important he needs to talk about if he called us all here. Isn't that right, Donnie?”

Frowning, Donatello sighed. “As much as it pains me to say so, yes.”

April kept hold until Leo reclaimed his seat.

With the group’s silence and attention finally garnered, the weight of what he was about to do began to sink in. Donatello cleared his throat and adjusted his posture nervously. The move caused several of his note cards to break free from their brethren and he waffled to pick them up. Crouched over a stray page, he pretended to look it over. “What I’m about to discuss with you is a delicate topic in regards to my person. I would…” He sneered slightly. “…appreciate it if you could exhibit, I don’t know, just an ounce of decorum, if that’s even possible.” He straightened and looked out at his family with a disarmed expression. “Surely I don’t need to remind you that you know me and that it wouldn’t come to this unless absolutely necessary.”

Seeing the display, everyone shifted. April and Leo's backs erected. With minimal trouble, Mikey spun around and tucked himself upright into the corner of the couch. Raph momentarily eyed the newly opened space, but decided not to crowd the furniture. Instead, the older sibling rounded the couch and plopped down cross legged in front of it.

Failing to reorganize his notes, Donatello dropped the arm clutching them to his side. “Though I’m not one to harp…”

Leo rolled his eyes and Raph sent an elbow back into his sibling’s leg.

“This is very very…. very difficult for me to do. That's three verys mind you.” Donatello got the comment out through gritted teeth.

“We’re here for you, Donnie.” April reassured.

“No jokes! Whatever you have to say, we’ll help however we can.” It was Mikey’s turn to snatch Leo’s tails. Leo gave a small yelp as he was tugged down until he was below his younger sibling’s gaze. “Right, Leo?”

Shrinking under Mikey’s intense glower, a brittle laugh escaped Leo’s throat. “Y-Yup! Whenever you’re ready, Don-tron!”

Mikey released his hold and Leo scooted closer to April who casually shoved him back into the center of the couch.

With his eyes glued to the floor, Donatello screwed his eyes shut. “It has recently come to my attention that I’m in love with Y/N.”

Raph was the first to move. The elder turtle sibling nearly bounced with excitement before clapping his hands over his mouth. From above him, April bit her lip and turned to Leo. Leo’s head lolled back and he threw his fists up in silent frustration. Mikey glowered at his sibling with such intensity that Leo brought them back down and mimed out an annoyed accusation at Donnie. Mikey’s cheeks puffed up with further displeasure.

Bringing his gaze up, Donatello saw his family all scramble to resume neutral positions. He huffed as his shoulders droop. “Go ahead less you all pop blood vessels.”

“FINALLY!” Leo groaned, collapsing over Raph’s form.

“What he means to say is, we’re glad you… finally figured it out?” April gave an awkward grin.

“Don’t listen to them, Donnie!” Raph cheered. “They don’t know what they’re talking about! I am so proud! My little bro's all grown up!” He then wiped a tear from his eye.

“No, I think I would know more than any of you!” Leo grumbled, pushing off of Raph’s back roughly though his sibling didn’t budge in the slightest. “If we’re gonna throw anyone under the bus at this point it should be Dr. Heartbreak over here.” Leo jut an thumb back at Mikey.

“I didn’t tell him it was love!” Mikey squeaked at the allegation. “Plus it was you two-" He pointed a finger of one hand at Leo and the other at Raph. “-who were trying to use my fashion show as some sneaky matchmaking op!”

Leo gave a loud fake gasp. “El yo acuso! I would never!”

“Don’t play cute! You knew about it too!” Raph was sweating bullets.

“But I wasn’t going to do it and I told you guys not to!” Mikey rose incrementally out if his seat.

“You invited Y/N to the after party! How is that not participation?” Leo tipped over with narrowed eyes.

“He has you there.” April gave a knowing nod.

Mikey babbled out a series of incoherent syllables before turning a watery eye to the center of the room. “Donnie, tell them! I didn’t invite Y/N cause of that. Tell them!”

Having brought attention back to the focus of the discussion, everyone clammed up.

“Better?” Donatello asked dryly.

Everyone gave a single tight nod.

“The love part isn’t the issue at hand.” Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Donatello cast his gaze down. “We have decided that we are going to be friends moving forward-”

“You confessed too?!” Leo scrambled forward so quickly that he hooked a spike on Raph’s shell and flipped over onto the floor. Now on his back, he gasped weakly.

“No, I did not.” Donatello responded, unperturbed.

Raph slide his hands under Leo’s shoulder and lifted him up. “Then how did ya come to that conclusion?”

“We finally discussed what we should be.”

“Isn’t it kinda hard to come to that conclusion when they don’t know the whole story?” April asked. 

“They know enough.” Donatello swept his flat gaze to April.

“But you love them?” Mikey jumped in.

"What difference does it make if I do?” Donatello winced and broke eye contact again. Feeling vulnerable, he wrapped his arms around himself.

The others exchanged looks.

“So, you brought us here to…?” Leo wheezed, shaking off a few lingering glares.

“Cutting Y/N out of my life again is out of the question. I agreed to the friendship terms. I need to rid myself of this accursed affection if I am to move forward. I already know the ins and outs of the neurobiology of love and unfortunately used it incorrectly-” Donatello grimaced. “-to talk myself out of my feelings before. I don’t… I don’t think I can handle discussing my misdeeds right now, so let’s just focus on the matter at hand.”

There was another heated exchanging of looks.

Getting to her feet and crossing the room, April placed a careful hand to one of Donatello’s arms. “Oh, Donnie… How long have you known?”

“Which part?” He kept his gaze away.

“That you were in love.”

“Since the after party.”

Mikey counted out on his fingers. “That’s… Nine? Days… I think?”

Donatello nodded.

Finally recovering from knocking the wind out of his own lungs, Leo was the next to approach his sibling. “And when did you and Y/N come to the whole friendship decision?”  

“Three days ago.” Donatello stiffened at the approach causing him to inadvertently leave April’s touch.

“Wait, you saw Y/N Friday?” As the timeline manifested in Raph’s mind, he also got to his feet.

“Yes! I needed help with my plants!” Feeling encroached by his siblings, Donatello took a few wary steps back.

“Hey, it’s ok.” April brought her hands up and moved closer to Leo. “We’re not interrogating you. Remember we didn’t know about this-” She thrust an elbow into Leo’s side when a chuckle started to escape him. “We’re just trying to get the whole picture.”

“Give me the whole picture on why everyone keeps hitting me.” Leo grumbled and retreated to the safety of the couch.

“I’m glad you’ve brought that up.” Donatello tipped his head down and reached behind his back.

April, being the closest, stiffened.

“Because I’ve prepared and in depth presentation to express that very thing!” With a swing of his limbs, Donatello turned on the projector which blinked open to show an active PowerPoint presentation.

“Oy vey!” Leo crumpled into the couch and tossed an arm over his eyes.

“As you can see here-” Donnie’s goggles came down and he positioned himself to the right of the screen. “We need to make sure everyone is on the same page. So let us start back at the beginning…” The slide turned over and a photograph of a store front appeared. “… at Lou, Mike, Tony, Tony's Pizza!”

April dragged herself to the couch in a similar that manner Leo had. Donatello began to drone on about the first time he met you. Raph, who was still standing, glanced between the presentation and his family.

“Data calms him down.” Mikey whispered, seeing Raph’s nerves. “He needs this.”

The older sibling nodded and took his earlier seat. With a furrowed brow, he squirmed until he was half facing the presenter while still able to see his family. Raph then mimicked Mikey’s tone. “This ain’t right. What are we gonna do, guys?”

“Which brings me to our first fated meeting: Jet Fuel Coffee Cart!” Donatello continued on obliviously, having now deployed a pointed extension on his tech-bō to direct attention on the screen.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Leo griped, his voice dipping to the same level. “I’ve done enough. I’m fine with the no meddling rule.”

“I’m pretty sure it was you who started the ‘keep Y/N around after the fashion show’ thingy.” Raph turned a dead stare to Leo.

“You say it was me, I say it was a group effort.” Leo shrugged with a smirk.

“Not this again.” Mikey slumped his shoulders. “No more blame. Are we seriously gonna help Donnie move on?”

Leo’s smile waned.

“New Jersey, enemy to not only to the casual New Yorker, but to Dream Vans the world over!”

“You would know best.” Raph eyed the middle sibling. “Does Y/N still love him?”

Leo twisted in his seat and gave a strained expression. “Nope! Nuh-uh! Not going there! I’ve kept my distance since throwing them a break-up party.”

Mikey cocked a curious brow.

“Don’t worry about it.” Leo waved the matter off without passing a glance at his younger sibling. He folded his arms until the persistent stares of his brothers wore him down. “Ok, fine! They were head over heels for Mr. Smarty Pants forever, but I honestly don’t know how they currently feel. I mean would you blame them if they moved on? It’s not like it was specifically anyone’s fault, bad timing let’s say, but let’s also say I have totally lost count of the number of wrongs Don’s committed. It’s basically criminal, but sorry, what was my point again?” Leo brought fluttering eyelashes to Mikey who pouted in return.

“It means we don’t know how Y/N feels. No matter how wrong we think it is, we can’t plan anything if they’ve moved on!” Raph frowned and gave a little dejected huff.

“We all saw how they were when they danced together.” Mikey murmured after a few moments of saddened silence passed.

Leo clicked his tongue.

“And while I’m not proud of what I did, I will say almost destroying Leo did have a certain level of satisfaction to it!”

“When you put it like that…” Raph hummed with mild frustration. “No, it doesn’t matter. We have to know for sure.”

“April.” Mikey leaned forward to look beyond Leo. The others followed suit. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m listening to both of you.” She pointed to Donnie, who was still passionately giving his presentation, and then twisted her wrist back to the brothers. “But I’ve also been thinking about something Donnie said.”

“Which part?” Mikey twisted his head and squinted at the projection in hopes of catching up.

“The part about New Jersey?” Leo croaked to himself.

“He said something about not being able to talk about his misdeeds.” April confirmed, bringing her furrowed brow up. “What do you think he meant by that specifically?”

“He’s got a ton of guilt.” Leo shrugged.

All heads swiveled to the middle brother.

“What?” Leo glanced around the group.

“What do you mean? I thought we went through the grieving process with him?” Mikey asked, dejection in his voice.

“We did.” Leo continued to look for a shred of understanding among his family.

“Then from what he thinks ge did wrong?” Raph looked to April.

“Leo, you’re gonna need to expand on that.” April pushed her hands together and then apart in demonstration.

Rolling his eyes, Leo leaned back into the couch. “Look at it this way, he’s had nine days to totally over think this whole thing. We may have helped him process his heartbreak, but if he’s saying this now then he must not have realized his was suffering was cause he was in love until then. Meaning, depending on how long he’s been in love, he’s probably been tearing himself up realizing all the missed opportunities while also being pretty dang aware of how that must have felt for Y/N.”

“You all became pretty prominent at this point, but only Mikey was present the day of the third fated meeting…”

April pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Donnie…”

“Then three days ago…?” A spark of understanding shined in Mikey’s eyes.

“I’m gonna bet he invited them over because he wanted to see them and this and that happened before some dramatic tension popping moment where Y/N finally needed to undo the whole, terribly named, 'un-duo' situation. Donald thinking he’d already quacked up the whole thing, probably rolled right over for friendship.” Leo pressed his lips together in a tight line.

“He’s gotta confess.” April decided, determination setting into her features.

“W-wait, what about Y/N’s feelings?” Raph brought his hands up anxiously.

“That’s what you took away from what I said?” Leo turned a arched brow at April.

“I know.” She turned, her lips tight. “It seems insensitive, but think, if they really are over him then this is their chance to formally reject him and hopefully both of them can actually move on. Maybe it’s just me, but if I was chasing some dummy around, even if I had gotten over them, I’d at least want to know if they actually had liked me the whole time! It would make me not always wonder if I was crazy. Plus, and again, might just be me, but these two have fate stink all over them. They basically can’t get away from each other. That’s gotta mean something.”

Raph’s eyes were watering and he brought a knuckle up to scrub at them. “True love always gets to me…”

Mikey gave a soft look to Raph before glancing at the screen. “He’s almost caught up!” Crossing his legs, he took his meditation stance. “What’s the plan?”

The group glanced at Leo who tried unsuccessfully to ignore the attention. “Please stop making me do this.”

“Just don’t be a jerk about it this time!” April slapped his shoulder.

“I’ll give you hints and nothing else!” Leo griped, rubbing the appendage. “What does this whole thing feel like?” With an outstretched hand, he twisted his wrist around the room.

“A family meeting, duh.” Raph responded blankly.

“What else?” Leo rolled his eyes.

“It’s kinda like a mixed up intervention since Donnie’s the one who’s having a ‘problem’ and wants it to stop, 'cept he called the meeting on himself…” Mikey mumbled with a creased brow.

April popped up with an idea. “Exactly! Let’s intervent this intervention!”

“Mhm!” Leo gave an approving hum.

“Huh wha-?” Mikey mouthed in confusion.

“Time for an April O’Neil recap!” She bounced and settled into her newscaster stance. “One. Donnie wants to make up for his mistakes.”

Raph brought up a single digit to count her down.

“Two. He wants to stop being in love so he can be a good friend!”

Mikey shook his head not at April, but the absurdity of the sentence’s content.

“Three. It’s not really tricking someone if they’re literally asking us for help.” She gave a wicked grin. “Good friends try to make up for mess ups, right Mr. Breakup Party?” She turned a knowing brow at Leo.

“There’s such a fine line between romance and friendship when you add a little feelings to the mix.” Leo winked.

“I don’t follow…” Raph stared at his three fingers in dismay.

April leaned over the couch to put a hand on the elder turtle sibling’s shoulder. “We’re gonna ‘help’ Donnie by 'recommending' he ‘make up’ for his mistakes to Y/N, but our 'suggestions' are gonna perfectly set the scene for him to confess.”

“That was a lot of air quotes…” Raph pursed his lips.

“Follow our lead!” Mikey sprung forward and grabbed the top of Raph’s head, pivoting it back to Donnie.

“And with that we are up to date!” Donatello turned to find his family facing him with smiles a little too wide. “Come on guys, I practiced to get the whole spiel under 5 minutes. Are your attention spans really that short?”

“Actually Donnie, I think we got it. We’re just a little, ya know, unsure of how to help.” April offered, shifting on her cushion.

“We are?” Raph looked up as if the ceiling could offer him an answer.

“First off!” The couch creaked under Mikey’s sudden jolt. “Why isn’t Cass here!? I mean, she’s the one of us that has a kid and all!”

“Future and present.” Leo chuckled.

“While she is also family…” Donatello swirled his hands, searching for the right choice of words. “Like dad, I wouldn’t say her idea romance is particularly synonymous with my own.”

April’s lips wrinkled. “That’s fair.”

“And…” Raph could feel the eyes on the back of his head as he began. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page…” The eyes all but bore into him.

“Go ahead.” Donatello urged.

“You gave this whole recap speech, but you need our help to get over Y/N?” The eyes seemed to let up and Raph resisted the urge to blot his brow.

“Unfortunately.” Donatello began and then feigned clearing his throat. “I’ve thoroughly researched the subject and though I appear to have cleared most of the steps. There has been abject failure on my part to actually move on which puts me at a loss.”

“But you didn’t cover those steps just now… did you?” Mikey asked, tapping a finger to his knee.

Lifting his goggles, Donatello narrowed his gaze at his youngest sibling.

Mikey puffed out his cheeks as wide as they would go.

“Hm, I suppose you were listening if you know that much.” Donatello turned and clicked the projector remote to the next slide which was blank. He then brought up his cuff and from it notes began to appear on the screen

With his back turned, the rest of the family squabbled in silence right up until the second Donatello turned around.

“Alright, here is a quick rundown which I will also explain.” Though he had addressed his family, Donatello’s voice hitched so he glanced back at the screen. “I’ve already been through the grieving process, a period of distance, and, as discussed, gone over the neurological components.”

“Woah, there, smart guy!” April called out, leaning forward. “There’s no actual time limit on those things. If you’re still struggling then you obviously didn’t go through the process enough.”

“No time limit, hm?” Donatello turned to stare at this notes.

Leo pulled on April’s sleeve violently. She, in turn, gently put her hand to his cheek before shoving it so far over that he bumped heads with Mikey.

“What I think-!” Leo began and all parties shot back to their respective spots as Donnie turned back around. “-April is forgetting is that you don’t really have the time to get over it, wouldn’t you say!?”

“Y-Yeah!” Mikey piqued. “You said you couldn’t cut Y/N out of your life!”

“Very true.” April bared a vicious grin which she slowly turned on Leo. “We can’t forget that, can we? But, we also can’t forget that letting someone move forward with a bad emotional basis is also gonna screw everything up!”

“I’m sensing something is up.” Raising a brow, Donatello waited for one of his family members to fess up.

Instead the four scrambled together as if they were posed for a yearly portrait.

“What makes you think that?”

“Us? Ha! Never!”

“We’re just here to help…! I think?”

“Why didn’t you use a theme on your presentation?”

All eyes pivoted instantly on Mikey.

“I didn’t want to overshadow the content.” Donatello took a single step forward. “A change in subject is a classic Mikey diversion tactic.”

“To be fair, it’s also just something he does when he’s distracted.” Leo shrugged his shoulders while both removing his arms from where they had snaked around April and Mikey.

“Out with it. Now.” Donatello took a few more steps until he was in the center of the room.

Everyone sent their gazes in different directions. Each with their own boiling point, Raph was the first to start sweating. He was then followed closely by Mikey, who began to bounce his leg. Leo twitched next, his hands shaking minutely. Finally, April, the strongest fortitude of the bunch, turned to look over her compatriots. She shook her head and stood to address Donnie in there stead.

“You got us.”

The other boys stiffened like boards.

“We just…” She gave them all another look, this time telegraphing reassurance. They relaxed slightly, but glanced at each other curiously. “We think you’re going about this the wrong way, D.”

Donatello’s shoulders rose at the claim.

“Being in love is something you should enjoy, not something you should toss aside like a used tissue. Seriously, you said it was nine days, right? And where has that got you? You’ve been miserable for most of it, huh?”

Startling at her question, Donatello looked away. “Not, all of it…”

“When you were together?” She responded with a dry knowing tone.

“But that’s-”

“Inappropriate? Wrong? Not cool? Yeah, it can be, but if you think past all your overthinking, did they ever seen uncomfortable?” April put her hands on her hips.

Lowering his head, Donnie reviewed the footage. “Only when we discussed our status.” Bringing his gaze back up, he remembered something else. “Especially when I mentioned properly apologizing.”

“Speaking of, and let’s table the love bit for just a moment. That seems like a sore subject all around.” April closed the gap between her and Donnie in a few steps.

“I need to do it right.” He responded, eyeing her warily.

“Now, this is just a guess, but it seems like that’s more of a pressing issue for you, hm?”

“I consider the two connected, but not intertwined.”

“Ok, stay with me here, but we all know the scientific lengths you’ve gone to excuse your feelings…”

Donatello’s guard went up instantly.

April shushed him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Here’s something that might not have popped up because it’s more of a ‘you gotta know’ kinda thing, but that crazy passionate love tends to burn brighter when there are obstacles.”

“I understand you’re going for some sort of long point here, but I’ll need you to elaborate on that part.”

“Ok…” She looked to the side and curled her bottom lip up into the corner of her mouth. “So, in a regular relationship there’s all these butterflies and giggles when it’s new and thrilling, yeah?”

“I suppose.” Donnie shrugged.

“This is exactly why you need some normalized love experience.” April gave him a dead eyed stare before shaking it off to regain her composure. “Anyway, when love is thwarted the like lifespan of infatuation is extended! Basically, because it’s not working out is why you can’t move on.”

“Uh huh…?” Donnie leaned away from the touch unconvinced.

“Nope!” Twisting her hand, April snatched his bicep and dug her fingers into his muscle.

“Ow! What are you-!?”

“Bringing the point home!” She shouted before leaning back and using her grip on Donnie to toss him towards the sofa. He stumbled the first few feet and then collided with the cushions. “Get him situated, guys!”

Raph stood on command and picked up his brother to seat him correctly. Leo pretended to dust off Donnie’s shoulders and Mikey stood only to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch next to his Donnie.

“Alright, fools! Listen up! Donnie!” April turned her still outstretched arm into a direct point.

“Yeah?” Donatello paled, at a complete loss.

“I propose that you haven’t been able to get over your love because you’re the obstacle getting in its way! Because you’ve been stumbling around with your feelings, they’ve never been given a chance to breathe or chill! That is compounded by this whole self-imposed apology thing you got going on. So, until you make it up to Y/N then you aren’t even gonna start to move on. Which brings me back to what me and the guys were trying to keep under wraps.”

Donnie blinked and slowly moved to look at each of his brothers individually. Mikey gave him a beaming smile. Leo shrugged with a lazy smirk. Raph passed a sheepish grin between his twiddling fingers. Still stunned, Donnie swept the same owlish gaze back to April.

“The proposition is simple: go have fun with Y/N with some activities we cooked up to make it up to them. In doing so, you’ll get to associate your love with some good vibes and then you’ll be naturally ready to let go. If you’re keeping track, that’s an April O’Neil three-for-one special, you’re welcome!” She then ended her presentation with a sharp snap and a pointed wink.

There was silence for a moment before Mikey started a slow clap. Leo and Raph joined in and kept going until Donnie joined them.

As it tapered off, Donnie leaned forward and stared at the tingling hands in his lap. “Do you really think that will work? I need you all to be honest. I need…” He closed his eyes and winced at the minor headache coming on. “I can’t mess this up.”

“You won’t.” Mikey draped himself over Donnie. “You’ll just have to let that big brain of yours take a itsy bitsy break.”

“Do you even know me?” Donnie shook his head, his voice tight.

“Remember when you were on that dance floor?” Leo bumped shoulders with him. “Let yourself have something like that and it’s a shoo-in!”

“You know…” Raph started with a mumble before he regained his voice. “After you and Leo fought, when I walked Y/N home, we talked just a little bit. I knew how much they cared about you and I wanted to say something like ‘because you guys care about each other it’ll all work out,’ but they kinda took the words out of my mouth. I think… No, I know they just want to keep sharing those happy times with you. That’s probably why they keep coming back for more.” Raph feigned slugging Donnie’s shin. “Even though we’re family and there's a bias, I feel the same kinda way. When we have bad moments, it doesn’t negate the good ones. It doesn’t mean it has to keep being bad. You keep making good memories to chase all the bad ones away.” Raph paused and looked to Donnie with renewed determination. “Rather than being sad about not knowing something, what matters more is how you react when you discover it.”    

Silence followed for a moment and Raph stared into Donnie’s rapidly watering eyes until Mikey sniffled. He then turned to find his youngest sibling outright sobbing.

“Ya big galoot!” Leo cried, launching himself at Raph. “Not a dry eye in the house! Where have you been hiding all that wisdom?!”

“Seriously, I thought I had it in the bag and you totally one-uped me!” April used her sleeve to dry her eyes.

“You all, just don’t listen enough. Raph’s got tons of good wisdom to drop!” The elder turtle sibling twisted between eating up the praise and bowing his head with humility.

“Fine.” Donnie swallowed hard, blinking away any errant moisture that threatened to fall. “I’m convinced. What did you all have in mind?”

“Let’s round table our ideas.” April walked over and leaned against the armrest nearest Mikey. “Mine’s gotta be last, who’s going first?”

“More wisdom!” Mikey hiccupped in a cheer.

“That means you, big guy!” Leo confirmed, giving Raph a final pat before reclaiming his spot on the couch.

“M-me?” Raph spun around to face his family. “We were… pitching what again exactly?”

“Su-wing and a’miss!” Leo chuckled, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Activity ideas for Donnie to make it up to Y/N, remember Raph?” April widened her eyes at him in an attempt to jog his memory.

Raph tilted his head at her before turning his still confused gaze to Donnie. “A gift is always good, right?”

April slapped a hand to her forehead while Mikey patted her shoulder.

Passing only a glance to the pair on his right, Donnie turned his attention to Raph on his left. “I depends on the content.”

“A gift that says ‘I’m sorry.’” Raph hummed with closed eyes. “No.”

Donnie raised a curious brow.

“A gift that says ‘I’m sorry’ from Donnie! That’s totally different!” Raph perked up and leaned forward. “You’re a big ‘make a gift’ kinda guy and your techy gizmos are… mostly fine, but getting something against character would really show how sorry you were!”

“How does pouring hours and hours into a technological wonder not show dedication?” Donnie scoffed.

“’Cause it’s too big! It’s gotta be something small, off the cuff kinda.” Raph brought an arched finger up to his lips. “You gotta win it.”

“Win it?” Donnie’s head jutted back at the unexpected note.

“Yeah! Bring ‘em to the boardwalk and win 'em a prize! It’s perfect! It’s out of character so it’ll be an awesome surprise and it’s something they can look back on and go ‘that’s the cute thing Donnie got me, oh wow!’” Raph put on a voice and brought his clenched hands up to his cheek with faux fluttering lashes.  

“Y/N sounds nothing like that.” Donnie retorted with a sneer.

“Oh, and it’s gotta be something soft and huggable!” A huge grin spread across Raph’s face.

“Shall I win one for you too?” Donnie mocked Raph’s earlier fist to cheek move.

“I mean… if you wouldn’t mind and maybe saw one that would go with my style…” Raph squirmed in place to temper his excitement.

“We’ll see.” Donnie gave his elder brother a little kick before looking at the siblings on either side of him. “Who’s next?”

“Since Aps got last, I’ll go second to last! Keep ‘em guessing! That means Mike’s up to bat!” Leo waved Donnie’s gaze to the other side of the couch.

“Heh, heh, heh.” Mikey faked a nefarious chuckle with an L-shaped crook of his finger and thumb framing his chin. “You’re in luck because I have just the idea.”

“Skeptical, but go ahead.” Donnie waited with an even stare.

“Kinda like what Raph was saying about out of character, you really wanna show how sorry you are? Then you gotta show that tender belly!” Mikey leaned forward and poked Donnie’s plastron around where his stomach would be.

“I dislike where this is going…”

“Geology.” Mikey turned a wicked smile up to his brother.

Donnie balked.

“You gotta take ‘em to the Hall of Gems and Minerals! If they know anything about you, they’ll know that’s a big deal!” Mikey grabbed Donnie’s arm and shook him.

Swaying back and forth, Donnie groaned. “But it’s the worst type of science! The only boring kind!”

“Exactly!” Mikey snickered.

“I hate all of this.” Donnie slumped.

“Apologies aren’t supposed to be easy!” April mused.

“Ugh, you know it’s bad when I’m almost looking forward to Leo’s terrible ideas.” Donnie swung his head to look at said brother.

“Pfft, you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Leo used the springs in the couch to bounce up and land on his knees with blossoming enthusiasm. “Alright, picture this!” He thread an arm around Donnie’s neck and pulled his brother until their cheeks slammed together. “You totally crush them!”

“When was the last time we had you tested!?” Donnie hissed, trying to wedge his hands between their faces to free himself.

“About five years ago!” Leo’s grip tightened. “Pay attention! We’re talking ice skating! Is the rink open yet? Oh, whatever use Case’s rink! Ping pong! Rock climbing! Axe throwing! Whatever and you try to give them a total beat down.”

“Uh, Leo I don’t think that’s quite what we’re going for…” Mikey worried, his hands out.

“You’re deranged!” Donnie flailed and managed to only partially get his head free which instead locked Leo’s arm around the middle of his face, silencing him.

“You all aren’t thinking of it in Donnie terms though! He’s terrible at sports! He’s gotta go all out, get fully cocky, and then crash and burn spectacularly!” Stars shone in Leo’s eyes and his free arm reached out to some imagined movie screen. "It’ll crack Y/N right up, they’ll end up winning no matter what, and also have the lovely satisfaction of knowing that you went all out and they still beat a ninja!” With his spiel done, Leo released his brother.

Donnie wheezed and gasped for breath while clawing over his body to rid himself of his brother.

“That might actually work.” Raph nodded with an amused upturn to the corner of his lips.

“Can we play ping pong after this?” Mikey ruminated.

Regaining enough oxygen to speak, Donnie shot Leo a seething glare before turning to April weakly. “Please tell me your big finale is better than any of this detritus.”

“Yup.” She closed her eyes and gave a single tight nod. “I’ve got it in the bag!”

Donnie gave a wave of his wrist for her to go ahead.

“A walk in Central Park.”

The four brothers all tilted their heads in sync.

“That’s it?” Leo whined, throwing his arms out. “You stole what could have been my sweet finish for that!”

“It’s a guarantee” April shrugged as if there were no contest.

“In comparison it does seem rather tame…” Donnie rubbed the back of his head, still sore from the headlock.

“I don’t know, it sounds nice.” Mikey shifted, looking between parties.

“Just trust me.” April stood and followed Mikey’s gaze. “Nah, you know what? Trust all of us. You gotta do each one of our suggestions to the fullest and only then will you totally make it up to Y/N!”

“All of…” Donnie mouthed and glanced around is dismay. “Can’t I put my own spin on each?”

“Nope!” April took a single step forward to put her foot down. “Ex-act-ly what we said! You wanna ‘do it right,’ right?”

“I do.” Donnie replied bitterly.

“And you came to us because you need help, right?”

“That is… correct.” Donnie struggled through the confirmation with disdain.

“Because, your way isn’t working?” April bent over at the hips to get to eye level.

At first Donnie resisted the gaze, but eventually crumbled to return it. “It was not.”

“Then give our way a chance. You might be surprised with the results.”

“I…” He broke eye contact to look around. “Think I’d like to lie down and think this all through.” Donnie drooped as he allowed the weariness to show on his features.

“Of course.” April bobbed and took a step to the side, allowing him a clean exit.

Everyone watched as Donnie draggd himself from the couch and kept the slouched posture and he headed for the exit. He paused just before hitting its threshold and spoke without turning. “Thank you all. It… means a lot.” He then continued his trek without waiting for a response.

Quiet settled in for a moment until April shifted her weight from one foot to the other and gave a resounding thumbs up.

Leo leaned forward and fist bumped it with a thumbs up of his own. “Nice save. Respect.”

“Did we do it?” Raph wondered, a nervous edge to his voice. “Didn’t you say there’s a chance he’ll get over it?”

“There is always that chance.” April turned and gave a soft smile to the elder brother. “We set it up the best we could and now it’s up to Donnie.”

“We were never gonna force him.” Mikey clarified.

“Oh, good then.” Raph nodded. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to handle it if they don’t end up together though!”

“Same, but because it’ll mean I went through all that pain for nothing!” Leo whooped in feigned pain and collapsed across the couch with his head falling into Mikey’s lap.

“In comparison to what you caused…” April leaned over him with a cocked brow.

Leo chuckled nervously.

“Yeah… I got a good feeling about this time.” Mikey turned a smile to where Donnie had departed.

NEXT

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 14: DREAM CATCHER - Episode 28: srs bonds

Izumi: Excuse me, we spoke earlier. I’m Tachibana from MANKAI Company.

Café owner: Ahh, sorry for making you come all the way here. Please wait here.

Café owner: Is this the photograph you’re looking for?

Café owner: A part-timer found it on the porch and brought it inside, thinking it belonged to one of our customers.

Misumi: It’s Grandpa…! Thank you for finding him…!

Izumi: Thank you so much. If there’s anything we could do for the person who found it–

Café owner: No, no, don’t worry about it at all.

Café owner: The part-timer left already, so…

Café owner: He’s also the one who found the post online and showed it to me.

Café owner: I believe that above all he’s just happy he was able to return something important to its owner.

Izumi: We’re really sorry for the inconvenience.

Kumon: Isn’t that great, Sumi-san!

Tenma: Don’t lose it again.

Yuki: I’ll remake the case so it won’t come off so easily next time.

Misumi: Everyone, thank you so much…

-

Manager: Ahhh, thank goodness! Please hurry, everyone! We’re out of time!

Tenma: We’re back in the nick of time!

Ibuki: It wasn’t a fluke?

Misumi: Nope! Thanks, Ibuki!

Ibuki:  If you wanna thank someone, you should thank those guys.

Ibuki: They were all so eager to help. No cap, I was shocked.

Misumi: Everyone…

Yuki: We’ve got no time to be standing around. Hurry and get changed.

Kazunari: So true~!

Kumon: Let’s go, let’s hurry~!

[Running]

Ibuki: Are y’all always this all over the place before a show?

Izumi: Uh, uhhhh, no way… Errr… Yes way?

Izumi: But you really saved our skins, Ibuki-kun. I think everyone will be able to concentrate on their performance with peace of mind now.

Ibuki: … Those guys sure are chummy.

Ibuki: They belong to the same theater troupe, so I thought they were just superficial business friends.

Izumi: Everyone is just like that, inside and outside.

Ibuki: Doing all that for the sake of someone else… I got a little jealous.

Izumi: They were all at each other’s throats when they first met, though.

Izumi: But the more they performed together, the closer they got.

Ibuki: … Is that another one of theater’s pros?

Izumi: Exactly. Though there were more factors involved than just theater…

Izumi: Things such as arguing during practice and in their day-to-day life, or communicating through their acting…

Izumi: … And working toward the same goal… I think those definitely helped them.

Ibuki: Nowadays, if you wanna talk, you can just log into social media. You want friends? You want a connection? Piece of cake.

Ibuki: Is this any different?

Izumi: That type of connection is important, too, of course. I think this is a different type of thing, though.

Ibuki: …

Izumi: I’m sure you’ll find people like that too one day, Ibuki-kun.

Ibuki: … That’d be nice.

Ibuki: Alrighty, Ibuki’s going home.

Izumi: Ah, wait! Since you’re here, do you have some more time?

Ibuki: Hm?

-

Kumon: Hurry, hurry!

Muku: We made it…!

Kazunari: That was close~!

Tenma: It’s a full house.

Yuki: And Hakkaku-san?

Misumi: I left him in a place he won’t get lost! I asked the staff to take care of him!

Kazunari: Okies.

Misumi: Everyone, I’m really–

Tenma: Stop.

Tenma: If you’re gonna apologize, do it by putting on the best first day show. Let’s huddle.

Kazunari: Kay kaaay!

Kumon: Scooch over~

Yuki: It’s cramped.

Tenma: We each took on our own challenges, and I think we all grew from the experiences we went through.

Tenma: We won’t give up on anything, including the New Fleur Award. We’ll do everything we can and reach it.

Tenma: … We won’t let anyone say this was an illusion. Let’s go, Oasis! To our journey!

Misumi: Yeeaah~!

Muku: Yeah!

Kazunari: Let’s gooo!

Yuki: Yeah, yeah.

Kumon: Let’s GO!

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[me-myself-and-my-fos]

The Day We Met

Pairing: Bernard x Nic Blake

A/N: Just pretend I posted this on New Year’s Eve like I had planned and it didn’t take me two weeks to finish this cause I’m a coward

Warning: brief mention of pregnancy; tooth rotting fluff

Nic could count on one hand how many times in a year were considered their ‘busiest’ time of the year. New Year’s happened to be one of them, and she had the (mis)fortune of being a manager this year during New Year’s Eve. She thought it would be no different from the chaos of Valentine’s Day or Easter or even Christmas, but no.

The door to the bakery opened suddenly, bell jingling as a tall, lanky college student in an apron and puffy jacket stepped outside. His arms had three boxes of various cookies, cupcakes, and other pastries in them as he walked toward the van they used for deliveries. Following him, Nic scowled at the back of his head. Her own arms were filled with large boxes of cupcakes and a cake.

“One job, Larry. I asked you to do one job, and that was to load the van thirty minutes ago!” She was overwhelmed and stressed and at her wits end with how packed the bakery was, as well as the orders they had to complete before it closed for the day. This was the last thing she needed. “Deliveries start in five minutes, how are we going to get all of these–”

A yelp escaped her as her world became horizontal, the patch of ice she hadn’t noticed being her downfall. Still, her grip on the boxes in her arms remained as she waited for the hard embrace of the sidewalk to hit her back. But it was an embrace that never came, and she opened the eyes she didn’t realize had squeezed shut in anticipation for her fall. Instead she found herself staring at the snowfall above, and a face came into view, eclipsing the gray sky.

“Are you alright?” Bernard asked, helping her stand upright. As she found her footing, Nic gave a shy smile to the handsome stranger.

“I’m fine,” she breathed out, slowly pulling away from his hold and over to the van. “Thank you for saving me.” She opened the boxes of orders, sighing in relief that by some miracle they managed to stay intact. She moved to face him, and Bernard quickly slipped his hands into his pockets. “I owe you one,” she told him before looking over at Larry. “Finish loading the van? I’ll be inside.”

As she carefully walked back to the front door of the bakery, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and was unsure what the redness on her cheeks was from: the cold, the embarrassment, or the cute guy who caught her. She tried to not let the blush work its way to her ears as she stepped inside to the warm, sweet smelling bakery and tossed her coat into the cupboard beneath the coffee station. Nic took her spot behind the pastry display to help the two employees that were taking orders and filling them. The bakery was packed, so much so that Larry had a difficult time squeezing back in to grab more deliveries, and Bernard nearly couldn’t find an empty space to get inside. Nic hadn’t even noticed her savior was in the long, jumbled line to the cash register until she stood from where she had been crouching behind the pastries, filling a paper bag with sugar cookies and macadamia nut cookies.

She was face to face with him, surprised and handed the bag of cookies to her co-worker who handed them to the customer with a handful of napkins. “Oh hey, it’s you.”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Bernard said.

“I’m fine, honest,” she told him light-heartedly. “It’s an occupational hazard. But let me get you something as a thank you.” Nic reached into her pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. She handed it to the cashier. “Ring it up for a dozen sugar cookies and a small hot drink.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bernard began, but was quickly cut off by Nic.

“This is my way of thanking you. So hot cocoa?” She asked, stepping over to the coffee pot that they had used to make hot cocoa instead. She poured a cup and took the whipped cream from the mini fridge underneath the counter, putting a healthy amount then closing the lid. She handed him the cup, their fingers brushing causing her to fight back a shiver. Pulling her hand away, her co-worker passed the bag of cookies to Bernard.

“Oh, thanks.”

“Thank you,” Nic tried not to giggle as they smiled at each other. There was a quiet pause as they did, the cashier continuing to take the next customer. But Nic was infatuated. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle when you smile?”

Bernard felt his face grow warm. “No, no one ever has.”

“Well they should, cause it’s true.”

“Nic, we need some help back here!” Called one of the employees from the kitchen. “Truck just came in and we need another set of hands!”

“I should really get back to work…” she mumbled, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Yeah, you probably should…” Bernard nodded.

“Thank you again for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a small nod and headed to the back through the kitchen.

New Year's Day was hell. Not because most of the staff came in with hangovers, but because most of the customers came in with hangovers. Nic dreaded flipping the sign to say open, but she had to. Contractually, she was obligated.

The bell rang as the door opened, and Nic rolled her eyes as her back faced the door. She was still putting coffee grounds into the coffee maker’s filter. The bakery opened less than a minute ago according to her watch, and someone already came in. Taking a breath, she put on her best smile and in the fakest happy voice she could muster at 7am, faced the counter.

“Happy New Year and welcome to Cake and Bake–”

She paused when she saw Bernard standing in front of the door, shaking the snow off his hat. He looked up and noticed her staring.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She adjusted her apron and stepped over to the cash register as he approached. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have any job applications?”

Nic was caught off guard by that, but she nodded. “Yeah, let me get you one.” She hurried into the back where the owner’s office was. As she disappeared into the kitchen, she fiddled with the keys in her pocket to unlock the office.

“Is that—” The head baker on shift, Jade, began to say, but Nic caught her off.

“Yes.”

Jade raised a brow. “Is he here to see you?”

The office door was unlocked and light illuminated the room. Nic opened one of the filing cabinets that she knew held the applications. She stepped out and held it up. “He wants one of these.”

“So he isn’t here to talk to you?” Jade asked, dividing the dough for the croissants.

“I don’t know!” Nic exclaimed quietly, throwing her hands up as she stalked across the kitchen.

“He’s cute though!” Jade told her before Nic pushed through the doors into the front of the bakery.

Bernard stood there waiting when she came out, and she held the application out to him. He took it from her, nervously looking down at the piece of paper.

“You can take it home and bring it back up when you’re done, or you can fill it out here.”

“Thanks.” He nodded and was about to walk over to the tiny table in the far corner of the bakery before he looked back at her. “Can I borrow a pen?”

Nic took the pen from behind her ear and handed it to him. Before he could take it, she pulled back. “I want this back before you leave. If I don’t get it back I’ll hunt you down.” He laughed nervously as she held it back out to him and he took it from her. “I’m entirely serious.”

“I promise I’ll give it back,” he told her then walked over to the table.

Nic watched him sit down and start to work on the application, but her attention was cut short by the door opening and the bell ringing. Taking a breath, she smiled and started working for the day.

An hour later when more employees had arrived and Nic was manning the cash register, she looked over to see him still working on the application. She walked over to the coffee pot filled with cocoa and filled a medium cup, topping it off with some whipped cream and chocolate syrup. She pulled a crumpled five dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to the cashier between customers.

“For the cocoa,” Nic said. It was a slower morning than she expected, but she figured it had to do with most people being hungover from the night before. She walked over to the table where Bernard sat and set the cocoa down next to him.

He looked at the drink and then to her. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“It gets cold by the window,” she told him, trying to explain away her actions. She left before the blush could consume her face, not noticing the same was happening to him.

It was another half hour before he approached the counter. The breakfast rush was slowing down finally and Nic had a moment to breathe. When Bernard came to the counter, she immediately gave him her full attention. He handed her the application and her pen.

“I’ll make sure my boss gets this,” she said gesturing with the application as she tucked the pen behind her ear. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” he shook his head, though not ready to leave just yet.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you then?” Nic smiled at him, hoping he’d understand the invitation she was extending to him.

“I’ll definitely be by again soon,” he assured her.

Another customer approached the counter, and Nic moved out of the way for her co-worker to serve them. She waved goodbye to Bernard before rushing into the back. Jade watched as Nic entered the office and wrote something down on a sticky note before playing it on the application.

“What are you doing?” Jade asked.

“Just telling the owner I strongly recommend he consider this applicant,” Nic replied nonchalantly.

“You never do that!”

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling about this one…”

20 Years Later

Nic let out a groan as she sat up in bed, the clock on her bedside table showing it was a quarter to six in the morning. She rubbed her face tiredly, feeling the sleep fog lingering as she yawned. The light on her husband’s bedside was on, giving the room a soft glow. As she put on her glasses, the bedroom opened and Bernard entered the room with a tray of breakfast in his hands. Nic smiled tiredly at him, leaning against the pillows as he walked over to her side of the bed.

“What’s this about?” She asked, looking at the tray that he set in her lap.

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed. For our anniversary,” he told her softly, leaning down to kiss her temple.

She hummed softly, smiling at the peanut butter and grape jelly on a cinnamon raisin bagel. She mentioned it to him the night prior— it was her first craving of the pregnancy. “Our anniversary was in September,” Nic reminded him.

“I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s the anniversary of the day we met. It was today, twenty years ago.”

Her eyes widened, pausing as she lifted half of the bagel up to her mouth. “No, it’s today? Already?”

Bernard nodded, smiling at her fondly. “It snuck up on us, I know. The last two months have been a busy time for us.”

“But twenty years? Where’s the time gone?” She asked in astonishment.

He reached up to tuck a strand of her messy bedhead behind her ear. “I don’t know. But you’re still as beautiful as you were twenty years ago.”

Leaning into his touch, she spoke. “And your eyes still sparkle when you smile.”

“I’ll let you eat and get ready for work. New Year’s Eve orders, they’re always the hardest to get through.”

“I will see you there, though.” She leaned forward and pecked his lips. “Once the girls are in bed tonight, we’ll spend New Year’s together.”

“I look forward to it.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i know merman!suguru is like the hot topic for now (as he should because omg . i think we’ve all seen that fanart and thought ‘ah yes. i’d drop myself into the waters like gojo too if i met this beauty’) but like…. what about pirate!suguru……

i have a feeling that he would look SO SO good as a pirate. but then again it’s pretty unfair??? how suguru works with all the different types and styles of aus???….. i actually think that whatever role you’d give him (merman, knight, pirate, idk even a cat etc) would eventually end up working just as nicely. and the way he nails such roles too? absolutely insane. and incredible. istg doesn’t matter in what universe you put him in, it would ALWAYS work up!!! atp i’m convinced he would look good even if he had a normal job as a cashier or a salaryman…………

PIRATE!SUGUUU OHHHHH MY FUCKING GOD ANON YOU GUYS CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS TO ME 😭😭😭

no because you’re so RIGHT, sugu is so versatile that he really fits so well no matter where you put him?? “idk even a cat” PHDNDB YEAH HE’S JUST…. he’s our talented wife!!! he has it all!!!!!

pirate!sugu…… i wish i had more to say anon but now that i think about it i don’t know anything about pirates 😭😭😭 my knowledge comes exclusively from tloz BUT i do know for a fact that he would be the captain and he’d be sexy as fuck. assertive and respectful and clever. a lil mischievous too…… i need him i fear. (what if… pirate!sugu/merman!reader 👀👀….)

okay but salaryman sugu and cashier sugu are BOTH so great …… one of my favorite flavours of sugu happens to be barista sugu <33 our working man !!!! he’s going through the horrors of retail but he’s thriving. getting tips bc he flirts with his customers (but he does it very subtly)… idk i just feel like he would notice you studying there and get a lil worried over how much caffeine you consume 😭😭 just kinda watches you work when he’s bored and sometimes it’s just the two of you in the café and he thinks it’s cozy :33 maybe starts doodling a little on your coffee cups and no one else’s, hoping it’ll cheer you up… 🥺🥺 smth like a little kitty cat saying work hard !! or do your best !! and he gets so giddy when he sees you smile from where he’s standing behind the counter…… T_T and as you start exchanging greetings and making small talk more often he eventually suggests that you buy a nice herbal tea or hot choco instead of the copious amounts of black coffee you drink PHDJDHD (toooootally not self-indulgent btw … wdym ……) just !! sugu being a worried sweetie :(( you’re his favorite customer !!!

i’m also imagining reader getting approached by a creep or maybe walking into the café because they’re being followed by one and they’re just so scared :(( and sugu notices instantly. does the barista thing where he hands them their coffee directly and makes sure to ask them in a whisper if the guy over at the other table is bothering them……. and then he intimidates the fuck out of said creep and demands that he leaves. gives you a sweet drink on the house to ease your nerves and even tells you to stay until his shift ends so he can walk you to the bus stop :((( he’s the ideal man idc!!!!! just so respectful and caring and protective.

so as u can tell i got carried away (added barista!sugu to the wip list 😞😞 save me from this agony) BUT ANON PIRATE!SUGU IS ALSO SO BIGBRAINED don’t hesitate to send in any thoughts u have on the topic …. now i’m gonna go daydream abt barista sugu while making my chai latte <33

[neptoons1998]

Rolling dough

Chapter one

Chapter two

A/N: I hope I'm not late tomorrow for work lol. Super sorry it isn't beta, I come back to fix it later, but it wouldn't leave me alone all day today. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Chapter three: Strawberry Frosted

Confectioners sugar, blended fresh strawberries, and a little vanilla extract. It’s important to totally pulverize the strawberries into a near-liquid consistency.

Okoye was many things to different people. But to many she was resilient. She would always come back stronger than ever, or at least that’s what most of her family members thought. Okoye would be lying by saying to buy into that myth about her too. She was is like a rooted tree, unmoving and unchanging. But ever since that “incident” happen, in her pristine wedding dress waiting for a man who was never going to show. Okoye restored back to what she used to when she was little. Avoiding. Was that the best thing to do for a thirty-two-year-old to do, most likely not; but Okoye would rather avoid harmful things in her past rather than face it. 

“Hey, when’s your mystery man coming?” Aneka asked her. She was the only one who hasn’t met  Attuma. Aneka was feeling left out and based on the group chat the description of him from Shuri and Ayo wasn’t enough to tie her over.   

Okoye felt a vein on her left temple pulsing, would it be wrong of me to kick her out today? Okoye thought before pulling up her ladder to the shelf, where they kept all their extra frosting for the donuts at. The shop has a custom order of strawberry frosted donuts. No, not yet..maybe after she does at least half the batch of donuts then kick her out, Okoye’s mind reasoned. She knew she could make two hundred frosted donuts by herself and it wasn’t like Aneka had anything better to do.  

“Like I told you, my sister, and Shuri. He isn’t my man,” Okoye replied as she slowly came off the ladder, and placed the container of frosting on top of the worktable. 

“Yet,” Aneka leaned over the worktable like a cat, lazed about as if she didn’t have any work. Okoye breathes through her nose, “There’s not yet nothing.”  

“Not with that mindset,” Aneka complained, “You know how I got my lovely Ayo to say yes to a date with me?”

“By holding her hostage?” Okoye commented Ayo glowered at her. When I make a joke nobody finds it funny Okoye shook her head.

Ayo rolled her eyes at her, “You’re not funny. No, what I did, I walked straight up to her in and said are you free Saturday?”

“Really?” Okoye being skeptical, “That’s not how Ayo tells the story.”

“What did she say?" Her sister asked. 

“She said some girl was following her around the university. And anytime she would try to talk to her the girl would run away,” Okoye responds to her sister-in-law. 

Aneka stood up straight looking flustered, “Well… that was at the beginning beginning. I’m talking about when we finally started hanging out.”

Okoye surpassed a laugh, “Whatever you have to say to yourself to sleep better at night.”

Aneka gritted her teeth, “Look I know you think we’re a little overbearing but it’s with a reason.”

“I know,” Okoye said, “And just like everyone else. I’m fine and I always bounce back.”

“Are you bouncing back or is it avoiding?” She asked, “Cause where I am sitting. I see the twenty-seven Okoye in her wedding dress waiting for some shit of a  man that too scary to tell her he didn’t want to marry her.”

“What’s your point?” Okoye is irritated by this subject. Can’t they see that she moving on? Okay so she’s not married like her cousins and sister so what? Marriage isn’t for everyone, Okoye just needed some time to understand that. She knew she was a laughingstock in her family, but at least everyone saved face until she left the room. That’s why she hadn’t visited her family in six months too afraid to see the failure in her parents’ eyes. God forbid Auntie Ramonda, which would be way worst. Okoye had never been so grateful that most of their family lived in South Carolina, until recently.

“My point is that. It’s okay that you don’t want to get your feet wet just yet but don’t take forever either,” Aneka voiced out hoping it would reach Okoye. She knew she was still an outsider to her lover’s family but she would be lying if she wasn’t rooting for her sister-in-law’s love life. 

“And I have twenty dollars riding that you guys get a move on,” Aneka commented wanting to get away from the heavy subject. 

“Just start working on the donuts,” Okoye grumbled. She hoped that Aneka would understand enough to know she apprenticed the kind words. 

Attuma made the decision. It took a couple of days but he decided to keep the gym. Based what it needed were some new pieces of equipment and a paint job; and the gym would be up and running. 

“Well I’m off,” Namora said  placing her suitcase to her side, before giving her little cousin a hug, “If you need any help call me.”

“I will,” Attuma said hugging his cousin back, “Call me when you get home.”

Namora nodded at the statement, “Ugh,” As she ended the hug, “Good thing you’re keeping the gym because you have eaten way too many donuts.”

“I’m just a big boy,” Attuma countered back as he patted his belly. Quite as it kept Namora ate way more of the donuts than Attuma. Attuma liked where his teeth were, so no comment. 

“Or you tell the owner you like them and ask on a date?” when Attuma didn’t say anything in her response, Namora rolled her eyes, yeah it’s time for me to go home, “Whatever. Ya later, cousin.”

And with that, his older cousin left him; All of a sudden he was craving deep-fried bread. So he started making his way to Runaway Donuts. 

“Oh!” Aneka was sweeping looking busy until Okoye came back when a customer open the door. Aneka let out a surprised gasp almost tripping over her feet as she came closer to the giant of a man, “You must be Attuma.”

“I am,” Attuma said still confused as continued talking to the stranger. 

“I’m Aneak, Okoye is my sister,” Aneak walked around him before going back to the register, “They were not kidding in the group chat.”

“Group chat?”

“Nothing nothing,” Aneka waved her hand as if she was shooing a pesty fly, “What can I get you, today?”

That was new, normally Okoye was just giving him a box of donuts, and he would buy them, “I don’t really know.”

“It was true, “Aneka muttered under her breath. Okoye would just make a box and he’ll just take it.

“I can give you some time to think about it?” She said telling the man know he would take his time. Attuma nodded there were a lot of decisions but not the one he wanted.

“Do you know where Okoye is at?”

“Okoye? Yeah she had to go to the bank, she should be back sometime later,” Aneka 

Attuma clicked his tongue, “I can wait.”

And with that Attuma sat in one of the too-small booths for him as he waited for Okoye. While Aneka was texting in a separate group chat without Okoye to tell the others what was happening.

[dgknightblue]

The picture depicts Rise Raph and Leo but:

Here’s a crossover idea.

Okay so I don’t know how it got to this point but let’s say one of the versions or a handful from different versions get teleported to the hidden city.

They were kind of confused but since they’ve met each other, they stick close. Then they hear something in a alleyway.

“Look I know for a fact that you’re too old to be hitting on me, so drop it.”, they stumble upon a red eared slider being cornered by a random mutant (yokai) that probably smells as cheap as they look.

“Oh come on, you probably have a few years I could wait.”

“No. I’m waiting for my big brother. You know ones usually nearby, right?”, they grit out.

“I don’t see him coming sweet heart, you look like a girl that likes fun don’t you?”

“I’m not.”, they glance and notices someone approaching.

“Besides my big brother’s here.”

“Just what can that noodle arm do huh?”

“I meant the red one.”, they smirk.

The random brute tenses as he feels a glare behind him. He turns to see a turtle with some muscle on him and a horrible glare.

The red eared slides away and behind them.

“I found my brother! Loved to chat but I have places to be! With my brother!”

The turtle twitches because he can feel the slider anxiously gripping the back of his shell. Other turtles show up.

“Yeah, why don’t you be on your way Hm?”, he snarls.

The random brute runs off scared. Once the slider deems it safe, they somewhat collapse in relief.

“Oh thank goodness! You saved my shell there. Sorry about that, no one usually approaches me. Mostly when my brothers are usually not far behind. You guys hungry? I know the best pizza place. I’d show you myself, but kind of need to go to my step dad for a hot second.”, the slider rambled with a smile.

“Well pizza would be nice, but why isn’t your step dad with you right now? If that isn’t too much to ask?”

“Hm…. We’ll I do like bad mouthing him every chance I get….. however it wasn’t his fault he ditched me. This time. He’s on probation for some pretty dumb things, don’t worry about it. So of course some public service is bound to happen.”

“Ah I see… we’ll can you give us directions then?”, said one of the turtles.

“Even better!”, they had them a map that’s locked onto the ‘Run of the Mill’ pizzeria.

“Cool, never seen one of these. How’s it work?”

“Uh tap here to undo the location lock and then touch this to open the voice thingy. If you don’t have a specific place to go, then the nearest one would pop up and tap it again to lock it. Anyways, that’s it.”

The slider turns to leave before stopping and turning a round with a glint in their eyes.

“When you get there- just say the best customer they’ve ever had wants them to charge your food to Baron Draxum. A little pay back for ditching me is well deserved after all.”

They laugh at that.

“By the way, where did you get your mask? Blue is my favorite color and I kind of ‘lost’ mine…”, they blushed when they said they ‘lost’ their mask.

“Uh sorry I got mine from my…dad.”

“Oh yeah me too, but I’ll have to look at one the illegals stalls then.”

“Illegal?”

“Yeah my family kind of *cough* destroyed the whole city *cough* totally has nothing to do with me! I’m blameless!”

They finally left them.

“Think that was one of us?”

“Probably considering they asked about a mask.”

“More importantly, got the guy tied up?”

“On the roof.”

“Good let’s get a bit information from him before getting that pizza.”

“I think it’s cute that, probably, Leo has a vindictive personality.”

“Also kind of worrying.”

“Yeah.. anyways what will we do to get him to talk?”

“I say smack him a round a little- especially for scaring the little blue.”

“Good idea, but we don’t know if the consequences-“

“Don’t worry about that. He won’t be talking about this to anyone.”

They go to the roof.

———————

At the pizza place, they do as instructed and the owner groans.

“What did pepino do? He likes to make a mess. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Oh he didn’t do anything! This a thank you for helping him.”

“Some creep was hitting on him when he was alone.”

“Wasn’t he with his step dad?”

“Uh Accidental ditching apparently.”

“Aie that Draxum wasn’t much of a role mole to begin with. I’ll have your pizza ready soon enough, please don’t be like little pepino and make a mess.”

A rabbit waiter asks what they want to drink.

“How was Leo anyway? Did he look obnoxious?”, the rabbit asked.

“Eh he seemed fine, why?”

“He does not have a clue what person space is.”, the waiter huffed before leaving.

“What a weird world this is.”

“Yeah, doesn’t seem like New York to me.”

The pizza arrives and they eat. They were amazed by the pizza. The slider shows up with a sheep man.

“Hey guys! Meet my step sheep. He’s the one paying <3”

The slider sits at the table while his step dad stands. He glared at them all.

“Why must I pay for these whelps meal?”

“Because they helped me when I really needed you <3”

“You could have handled it yourself.”

“Ah but here’s the thing.”, an angry glint in the sliders eye.

“You and my family have already caused quite a mess yourselves and making another scene just after the punishment ruling would not look good for my dad or my brothers.”

“The only reason I’m in trouble is-“

“You didn’t stop them and they dragged you with them. That’s on you.”

The slider then ignored him in favor of continuing to eat and the sheep gave up his money, not wanting to get into an argument.

“Oh I never got your names. I’m Leo Hamato, Battle Nexus champion and certified hero if I do say so my self! But you can call me Neon Leon.”

“Ah yes, self proclaimed fame the best kind of hero.”, the rabbit waiter showed up.

Dropping the pizza on the plate, Leon practically melted into a love struck smile.

“Oh hiiii Usagi, I missed you <3 want to hang out later?”

Usagi rolled his eyes and placed drinks on the table along with Leon’s.

“You know juuust thing huh? You’re really cool <3”

“Leo, if your brothers saw you after curfew they’d kill me.”

“Why? You’re my best friend and you’re strong <3 and fast <3 and smart <3!!”

Usagi stays quiet as he deadpans, feeling the glare of the other turtles at the table.

Oh good. His family grows and my pain extends.

“Oh where are our manners? We haven’t introduced ourselves either.”, a tight smile.

(Of course the other turtles have aged, Leon is still 16 though)

“I’m… Daniel.”

“I’m… Milo.”

“I’m… Ronald.”

“I’m…. Laramie.”

(IDK about ages)

—————-

Eventually blah blah they get back before anyone found out they were from other universes.

“Laramie” gave his mask to Leon.

Now imagine how they’d find out of other universes.

Maybe Leon shows up to another universe, doesn’t know at first when they see one of them.

Or more sudden visits to the hidden city.

(How come we don’t ever start in the hidden city? I thought it would be a good idea.)

Which turtles come here? Besides them being one of each.

Anyways bye!!

[ducktales-reboot-fanzine]

First Date

It was Saturday, and Gladstone was getting ready for his date with Emilie. He had chosen a small coffee shop due to not wanting to put too much pressure on Emilie.If it was too extravagant,then she might think he was trying to pressure her into a relationship with him.Of course,if Gladstone chose something too casual then Emilie might think he was cheap.

Gladstone left his house when he deemed himself acceptable.While heading towards Emilie’s house Gladstone was wondering what Emilie was going to wear.And thanks to his luck,Gladstone found out rather quickly.

Emilie was wearing what could be described as ‘chic’.A blue business jacket over a lighter blue shirt that matched her heels, and a gray skirt.

“Pretty formal for a lunch date, and fun at the pier afterwards,don’t you think?”Gladstone asked Emilie.

“This from the guy who’s wearing a suit.”Emilie pointed out.

Gladstone looked at his own outfit, and realized that Emilie was right.He was in no position to criticize her choice of clothing when he was wearing a suit.

“So,shall we get going?”asked Emilie,holding out her hand for Gladstone to grab.

“Sure.”said Gladstone,grabbing Emilie’s hand.

Even though it was the second time that they interacted with each other,Gladstone was amazed by Emilie.It was like she wanted to be in charge, but at the same time,didn’t.Gladstone could honestly say he never met a girl like her.

“So, what do you do for a living?”Gladstone asked finally.Emilie didn’t seem like the type of person who wouldn’t work.

“I’m a child psychiatrist.What about you?”responded Emilie.

“I-rely on my luck to provide for me.”

“Ah.”

Emilie didn’t seem impressed by this.

“So,what does a child psychiatrist do?”asked Gladstone in an attempt to make conversation.

“Pretty much help kids with their emotional,and mental problems.”said Emilie.

“How do you do that?”

“By playing games with them,and talking to them.”

“How does playing games with the kids help them?”

“It helps them open up.”

“Interesting.”said Gladstone. “Hey we’re here!”

It was called Ducktales, and one of the fancier coffee shops in Duckburg.

“Never been here before.”said Emilie as they entered the coffee shop.

“Really?”said Gladstone.

“Yeah.”

The moment they entered Gladstone was declared the 100th customer of the day.While Gladstone didn’t have a problem with this, he couldn’t help but notice that Emilie did.It wasn’t until they sat down with their orders when Gladstone found out why.

“Emilie,is something wrong?”asked Gladstone.

“Yeah.You got everything for free.It doesn’t make sense.How do they know that you’re the 100th customer of the day?Do they count each customer until they reach 100?Do they have something that counts each customer?”said Emilie.

“Emilie,don’t overthink it. I was born with my luck.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m lucky in practically everything.”

Emilie looked at Gladstone in a suspicious way which made him wonder if she thought he was bragging.

“I’m not bragging.It’s just true.”said Gladstone,hoping to save face.

“Well,let’s see how lucky you are.”said Emilie at long last.

“Interesting.What do you have in mind?”said Gladstone.

-

“The games at the pier!”said Emilie when they arrived at the pier.

“Well, I did say that we were going to spend some time at the pier.So,why not play some games while we’re here?”said Gladstone.

He didn’t know whether or not he should be amused by Emilie’s challenge.After all, she wasn’t the first person to challenge his luck.But he also didn’t know how she’d react when she saw that he was right.

Gladstone won every game,although Emilie did come close a few times.Everything was going wonderfully.

Until Annebelle showed.

“Hey Emilie!Is this the guy you gave your number to?”said Annebelle when she approached.

“Yes.Now leave.”said Emilie.

“Oooo.He’s cute.Are you rich?”Annebelle asked Gladstone.

“I thought Emilie told you to leave.”Gladstone told Annebelle.

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I’ll be back.”said Emilie as she went to a food stand.

“Where’s she going?”asked Gladstone.

“I don’t know.But we’re alone now.”said Annebelle, getting closer to Gladstone.

“Please stop.”said Gladstone, moving away from Annebelle.

Just then Emilie appeared with a drink in her hand,which she poured onto her sister.

“Now you have somewhere to go!”Emilie yelled after Annebelle as she ran off screaming.

Gladstone couldn’t help but laugh. The fact that he saw what kind of person Annebelle really is the night he met Emilie meant that he knew better than to trust Annebelle.

“So, what now?”asked Emilie.

“I can win you a prize.”said Gladstone.

“Only if I can win you one too.”

“If you insist.”

The rest of the day went smoothly without any interruptions from anybody else. And as they both told each other,Emilie,and Gladstone got each other a prize.Gladstone got Emilie a plush animal of undetermined species while Emilie won him a leprechaun figurine.It wasn’t much, but Gladstone still appreciated it.

“So,you want to do this again sometime?”Gladstone asked Emilie when they were leaving the pier, and heading back to their respective homes.

“Sure.Maybe on Tuesday.”said Emilie.

“Why Tuesday?”

“Because Tuesdays are awesome.”

“Okay then.”said Gladstone with a smile as they went their separate ways.

-

fanfic by @backgroundshipper / @the-chronicles-of-emilie-duckman

[petitelepus]

The Modern Take On, Part 1

Honestly? You had a really shitty day until you met this tall dark and a handsome older gentleman who called himself Doctor Otto Octavius. Things happen with time and you learn things through trial and error. Also, you totally have sex.

~~~~

You sighed as you looked into the dark waters under the bridge. You wondered just how easy it would be to just climb over the fence and fall into the waters and become one with the darkness.

To disappear and never be seen or heard from ever again. In its own way, the idea was appealing, but you couldn't rest yet, you had so much to do.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You yelped like a mouse, startled beyond belief. You looked to the side and saw this huge man, at least a foot taller than you in a trench jacket, standing just a couple of steps away from you. You blinked in shock. Where did he come from and when had he gotten so close to you?

But do what? Before you could ask, the man moved to stand between you and the bridge's fence. That's when you realized just how bad your situation must have looked to a bystander. He thought you were going to jump. What an unfortunate misunderstanding.

"I- I'm sorry! I wasn't going to jump, I swear! I was just watching!" You stuttered quickly. The man raised one of his thick eyebrows behind his glasses in a questioning manner, "Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Can I trust you?" He asked and you blinked again, "Pardon?"

"Can I trust that if I leave, you won't jump?" He specified and you swear, you weren't going to jump, but you couldn't lie and say that the action didn't sound tempting. You averted your gaze from him and gnawed your bottom lip nervously.

"Is there anyone you can call or...?" The man asked, but you shook your head. It was a lie, you had people who would no doubt come pick you up, but you didn't want that. The man kept looking at you before he nodded.

"Listen, I might be a complete stranger..." He started as he fixed his glasses, "But would you let me take you somewhere like a cafe or somewhere else? We could talk- Or, well, you talk and I'll listen?"

You whipped your head towards the man and looked at him like he had two heads. What was he thinking, you were a complete stranger!

"Ah, that isn't necessary!" You shook your head and hands in a slight panic, "I can just go home! Thank you for worrying!" You turned to leave, but before you could take even a step, the man gently grasped your upper arm. You flinched visibly and he quickly let go when he saw how you reacted to touching.

"Please, let me offer you a coffee or tea at least?" He asked and he sounded sincere. You nervously gnawed your bottom lip.

"I..." You looked away and coughed into your fist awkwardly, "I don't want to be a burden..."

"Nonsense. It would be my pleasure." He smiled, "There is this small diner just around the corner. Can I take you there?"

You nodded and followed the man off the bridge as he lead you to a diner just around the corner. The place looked old, or at least older than you, but it looked comfy. A bell chimed when you stepped inside and you were immediately greeted by the scent of coffee.

The mysterious man lead you to a booth and you took a seat opposite from him. You fidgeted nervously, not used to the company or the new places.

The place was empty save for a couple of customers, a waitress, and a cook in the kitchen. Speaking of the waitress, a heavily pregnant woman walked up to you guys and took out a small notebook from her apron.

"Otto, you're up late!" The waitress said and the man, Otto smiled at the lady, "Evening Julia. Still working?"

"No rest for the wicked," The lady chuckled, "What would you and your friend like?"

"I'll take a coffee. What would you like? Order whatever you want." He said as he glanced at you, and you panicked lightly. You didn't have much money on you and you didn't want to make him pay for anything pricey. "Uh, I'll take tea please."

"Coming right up!" Julia said and left to fetch your orders. You swallowed nervously as you were left alone with this man, Otto. You tried to think of something to say or do, and the first thing that came to your mind was to clear up the misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry about this, I really am. I wasn't actually going to jump." You said and you meant it, "I was just... Looking."

"I see," He nodded, but before he could reply, Julia came back with a huge cup of coffee, hot water, milk, and tea bags.

"Here we go! Enjoy you two and let me know if you need anything else." The peppy waitress smiled and left. You took your tea bag and sank it into the cup while Otto enjoyed his coffee with a little bit of milk. You blew some cool air into your hot water, trying to cool it down a bit faster.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Otto suddenly asked and you looked up at him, "Pardon?"

"What made you stare into darkness?"

"I..." You recalled what a shitty day you had just had that drove you to stand on the edge of the darkness. You sighed as you cupped the hot cup and enjoyed its warmth. "It's nothing serious. I just got yelled at a lot today."

"It's never nice when you're the victim of someone's bad temper." The man nodded and you copied him, but you couldn't help but frown as you recalled all the nasty things people said, no, yelled at you.

You heard a lot of things in one day and maybe that was the reason you were so burnt out. You could vividly hear their voices in your mind and see the fury, frustration, and disgust on their faces. Tears rose to your eyes and before you could react, Otto offered you a napkin.

"Thank you." You accepted the piece of soft paper and wiped your eyes clear of tears. Otto acknowledged you with a nod and sipped his coffee.

"Words cut deeper than knives. A knife can be pulled out, but words are embedded into our souls." He said and you blinked, amazed by how he seemed to know exactly what to say.

You finally noticed that Otto... He was really handsome. He had smile lines hiding under that trimmed clean dark beard of his and his mop of brown hair looked really soft. He was maybe 20 or 25 years older than you but you found yourself not caring about the age gap... If anything, it was a huge bonus.

You swallowed nervously as you felt butterflies go nuts in your belly and you tried your hardest not to blush or god help you stare at him.

"You're very wise," You said, trying to change the subject. The man smiled as he chuckled, "I would be a poor teacher if I wasn't."

"You're a teacher?" You asked and he nodded, "A professor really. I teach in this local technical college."

Speaking of that, you knew his name, but he didn't know yours. You introduced yourself to Otto and he smiled, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Otto Octavius." He said and offered his gloved hand to you and you accepted it.

You couldn't help but notice how large his hands were when compared to yours and part of you thought that was exciting. What else could he do with those big hands of his?

Look at you, you just met and you were already head over heels for this man. You tried to chase away all the inappropriate thoughts with some warm tea and he took a sip of his own drink.

"Is there a place you can go tonight?" He asked and you almost choked on your tea. You covered your mouth with the napkin and coughed violently into it.

Was he hinting something at you? Offering his home to you? His bed? His warmth? Wait, no, why would he? You just met.

"Are you alright?" Otto enquired as he looked at you uncertainly. You nodded and coughed a couple of times before you managed to stop the coughing fit.

"I'm fine, thank you..." You felt your throat ache and your eyes water again, but you tried to smile through them, "I live nearby, so no worries. I'll make it home safely."

Otto nodded and took off his glasses so he could wipe their lenses with a napkin of his own. You waited for him to finish cleaning his glasses until you dared to speak again. "How about you? Should I escort you back to your home?"

The man opposite of you looked at you before smiling and laughing lightly and you felt like Cupid had shot an arrow at your back when you as much as saw Otto smile at you. "You're really modern lady, offering to escort man back to his home."

"What can I say?" You smiled, "I'm a fancy lady."

"Very." Otto chuckled as he finished his coffee and you glanced at your lukewarm tea and downed it in one go. Otto raised his hand and the waitress Julia seemed to pick up his signal and made her way to you guys.

"Done already Otto? Don't you and your date want some of our blueberry pie or pancakes?" Julia asked and you felt your cheeks tingle at the mention of you being his date.

"Maybe next time." Otto smiled as he dug a 10-dollar bill from his huge jacket's pocket and gave it to the waitress, "Keep the rest."

"How generous. Make sure to visit us again," Julia chuckled as she picked up your used cups and took them to be washed. You and Otto made your way out and the air was already chilling enough to show your breath.

You glanced at Otto and pointed into the distance. "I live this way."

"What a coincident, I do too." He smiled and you felt another arrow pierce your skin and sank all the way into your heart. The two of you walked together and chatted about this and that, mainly you asking what kind of stuff Otto taught in college and Otto tried to explain them to you in simple English.

Finally, you came to a cross-section where the road split, and you and Otto looked at each other.

"I'm going this way." You pointed with your finger and Otto pointed the other way, "My home is in this direction."

"So..." You swallowed nervously. What should you do, ask him to join you, ask to see his place, or what? You knew that if you let go of him now, you might not see each other again.

"Can I see your phone?" Otto suddenly asked and you blinked but did as he requested and gave him your phone. He took one look at it and smiled at you, "Can you unlock it for me?"

"Oh, yes, of course," You nodded and unlocked the device.

"Thank you," Otto smiled as he took your phone. You watched him tap something and after a few seconds he gave your phone back, "I hope you don't mind, but I took the privilege to add my number to your phone."

You stuttered as you looked at your phone and saw a ten digits number just below his name. "If you want to meet again or ever just feel like you need someone to talk to, please call me."

"Why are you so nice to me?" You hesitated, "You don't know me."

"I know enough to know that I would love to meet you again." He replied and you felt like your heart could burst from your chest. You were absolutely speechless. This older handsome and not to mention smart man wanted to see you again. You?

"I..." You swallowed nervously, "I will."

Otto looked happy and you felt hopeful as the two of you went on your own ways. You didn't lie when you told him you lived near, your small apartment building was only a stone's throw away. You entered the building and took the stairs to the third floor where the little apartment you called home was located.

Once you made it inside, you made sure to kick off your shoes and put your jacket on the hanger before you collapsed on your bed. You lay there for a second or two before you grabbed your pillow and squealed against it. What a heck of a day you had!

First, you got yelled at work for screwing up so many orders, and then this guy you thought liked you came in with another girl and totally shamed you in front of the whole workplace...

But then you met Otto at the end of the day. What a day, you got your heart broken and now it was already beating for someone else.

You sighed dreamily as you recalled what a gentleman Otto had been and how charming and handsome he was. You hated to admit it, but you really fell in love too easily. No, this wasn't love, not fully yet anyway. You were pretty sure it was lust, but you had a feeling that maybe Otto returned those feelings.

You looked at your phone and that's when you realized that you hadn't given him your number! So it all depended on you if you two were to see each other again... Would you dare to be so bold and call him?

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Why did you elbow me? 212

Achilles Castle part 114

Lemonade and lies Part 57

Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek undercover part 21

Officer Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek/Greig: pov Kovitch tells me about his non-existent relationship with Carl the guy that was arrested. His employees never knew Carl or met him. We chat while getting some work done packing boxes for delivery. Garter is going to drop them off, hey how about I get us some food, Garter will probably be a while so I will just save him some for later. Kovitch gives me directions to the food place.

Kate/Stana: pov I thought i saw Pamela hovering by, the next person i’m helping is already annoying me and we haven't even started yet. As soon as the person starts coughing, I backup which gets the person angry. He is shouting how dare you, backup from me. I'm not contagious, he is saying you can't spread stuff by being near people that is a lie. For my own health and safety I tell the guy if he is sick I can't help him. He is definitely getting more angry. He is shouting why can't you do what I'm asking as an employee here? You work for the customer and help us, so shut up and do your job and stop complaining. As I start to walk away from him he grabs my wrist hard preventing me from leaving he says you don't get to walk away from me that easily. Anger suddenly overwhelms me, I have health issues so I'm sorry that I don't want you to get me sick. He goes on another weird rant before I can finish speaking. His rant doesn't make sense to me. I’m done talking to him. I shouldn't have to explain my medical history to him. I manage to pull my hand away from him. All of a sudden he shoves me hard with his hands on my chest saying are you going to have a problem doing as I say. Thankfully I didn't fall and Parker was turning the corner and heard a good amount of the conversation.

Parker: pov I run over and shout for Pamela, as soon i walk over the guy acts like nothing just happened. Stana is definitely angry right now. I tell Pamela to take her to the breakroom. Barton is behind me asking what is going on. The police should be here soon. He grabs the guy and takes him into another room telling Jeffrey to watch the guy.

Pamela: pov I don't know what triggers her so I ask her if I can help her to the breakroom. Stana is very angry. I can't imagine someone putting their hands on you. How rude. Are you okay, Stana says fine.

Parker: pov me and Barton both head to the breakroom to see how Stana is doing. Barton tries to call Greig but he won't answer so he calls Lanie who is her other emergency contact. She should be here in a few minutes. I head to the fridge and grab Stana a water bottle. Pamela is trying to calm her down. Since the guy put his hands on her the police have to get involved.

Lanie: pov Kate/Stana's boss Barton calls me telling me a customer was rude to Stana and shoved her, I will be there in a few minutes her meds should be in her bag if she needs them. Barton, do you know If she is okay? He says from what Pamela and Parker tell me she is okay, a little angry and probably shaken up by the whole experience. I let Esposito know where I'm going, same with Castle.

Kate/Stana: pov the police arrived very quickly officer Franklin went to talk to the guy who shoved me. Crap I know this officer who is talking to me. I've worked on a few cases with him before. Hi I'm Stana and I'm new here. Today is my first day on the job. Actually, do you have a piece of paper and a pen? I wrote UC 41319 and handed him the paper making sure no one saw. I can't have him blowing my cover, I can tell he understands what I mean. He asks me for my side of the story. The guy was coughing and when I told him I couldn't help him if he was sick he got very angry and wouldn't let me walk away then he shoved me.

Franklin: pov after talking with the guy I realize he doesn't understand what he did is wrong. Barton had explained a little bit over the phone to us. I grab the guy and take him to the room Stana is in so he can see that what he did has consequences. Barton said it was okay. He talked with Stana first to make sure it was fine. I can hear her telling my partner about her time in the ER. It turns out she got shot in the chest and almost died. Stana explains to the guy her medical history and how him getting her sick could have sent her to the ER. She is definitely getting emotional.

Barton walker: pov a woman runs into the breakroom in scrubs. This must be Lanie, she immediately sits next to Stana and grabs her wrist while checking her pulse. Lanie grabs a stethoscope to check if Stana is okay; Lanie then lifts up her shirt a little to make sure everything looks okay. That scar is huge, Lanie whispers something to Stana which I can't hear. I can only hear her reply, which is okay, that's fine.

Pamela: pov Lanie is rubbing Stana’s back in a soothing way she looks like she is about to cry. Barton says if she wants to go home she can. It looks like she is staying, Jeffrey offers to get all of us some food. Stana just looks so tired, Lanie asks her if she is sleeping okay and how many hours she is getting because she looks exhausted just like a few days ago when she was over because Stana had a medical issue. To be continued. …………..

[bookloveravenue]

Mike Bravo Ops (book 3): Atlas by Eden Finley

ATLAS

Working undercover at a strip club is not my usual kind of job. If it weren’t a great opportunity to show the Mike Bravo team I can run my own op, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.

When my boss asks me to befriend the biggest gossip in the establishment, the person who knows everything, I’m even more reluctant. Because that happens to be one of the dancers. The only dancer to catch my attention in all the wrong ways.

I need to be professional or I will never prove I’m leadership material.

Only problem is, the guy with the stage name Lemon makes me want to be anything but professional.

LEMON

I’m sick of the new bartender throwing dirty looks my way. He’s as judgmental as he is hot, and let’s just say he’s really judgmental.

I don’t know why he’s working here if he looks down on us dancers so much. He could bartend at a regular club.

But when he saves me from a drunken customer getting too handsy, his attitude suddenly flips, and we find ourselves becoming … friends?

Underneath the judgment, it turns out Atlas is a total sweetheart.

Maybe more caring than anyone I’ve ever met.

I’ve never had a relationship before, but something tells me it could be way too easy to fall for the gentle giant.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122753551-atlas

********

June 8, 2023

My Review: 5/5 Stars

We get Lemon's story! And Atlas! For those who read Eden Finley's books, you know Lemon had shown up in one of the novellas, and I was one of those people who thought it would be pretty cool to see Lemon again. And we do! And he and Atlas are great for one another. Atlas is sent undercover at the strip club where Lemon works at. The team was hired by one of the owners to find out who was stealing money from it. And though Atlas has been there for a little while now, he is struggling to get a break in the case. He also can't keep his eyes away from Lemon. And when it's time to try and new angle to find the info he needs, Atlas finds himself really crossing paths with Lemon for the first time. This time they'll get to know one another and it proves Atlas's gut right when it comes to his feelings about Lemon. But it isn't long until things take a turn and now Atlas will do everything to keep Lemon safe. This was such a fun story! Lemon is loyal and fierce protector who goes out of his way to help others. But who really helps him? Turns out Atlas is that man and it will be up to Lemon to decide if he is ready to let them happen. These stories always have a few nice twists and turns that keep you on your ties. Plus some great action and a swoony romance. Another great one in this series and I hope there will be more!

[zepskies]

Omg I’m so glad to hear that! I really worked hard on this chapter. It’s the culmination of a lot of angst and heartbreak for these two.

I had hoped that you would feel inherently the weight of these 10 years on Ben. I’m glad he doesn’t feel like the same guy we met in Part 1. That’s exactly it—the combination of being alone with his thoughts after what she said to him, and the reality of what he’s been through, has been enough to force him to reckon with himself a fair bit. That really hits for him when he finally sees the reader again. And I’m glad you liked their Bonnie and Clyde moment lol!! That’s exactly what I was going for too—that they feel like actual partners now. 💞

One thing that kind of bothered me about canon season 3 of the show was that suddenly SB was in New York. Like, how did he get there? How did he find an airport, get through Customs, etc.?

We didn’t see any of that, and so probably the hardest part of this chapter was making that journey feel real, and as exhausting as I imagine it would’ve been, especially after everything they’ve been through.

I can always trust you to pick up what I’m laying down, both on that, and all the little “tells” with Ben, that he’s changed, that he’s trying to protect her, be there for her, care about her. (Not pushing for sex WAS a big tell, wasn’t it?) 😅

As for Ben and the reader in the shower scene: Yeeess, that’s what I was going for. A combination of rough and gentle, lust and passion, but also a note of caring. And finally honesty. Like you said, “lovers, not like fuck buddies.” Ooh yeah, I didn’t even notice it myself when I was writing, but now that you point it out, the way he kisses her, both during and not during sex is very telling.

“You’re all I’ve got.”

For him to even admit that really is massive growth. 😭😭 He had to ask her if she still thought he was an asshole (AKA hated him), and if she was still afraid of him, because he does care. You’ll see more of a window into why he saved her in the next chapter, but that’s the choice that really cements it for him, that he still cares about her, just like you said, more deeply than he would have ever been able to say before they were captured. I love how you noticed all those little physical tells, as like in BMD, Ben will show his feelings primarily through his actions first, rather than in words.

I understand the reader's fears but I'm with Ben on this one. Murder. Murder them all lol.

LOL honestly same page there. Countess and the others will be seen again very soon…

Ugh, even in your desire for revenge, you're treating reader as an equal and I'm just soooo excited to see what's next!💚

That’s a big step for him, right? Part 10 is my 2nd favorite chapter, so I really can’t wait to share it with you everyone this time next week!! Thank you so much as always for letting me know what you thought. 💕💕

Lost on You - Part 9

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The great escape…

Song Inspo: “Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” by Kate Bush

Word Count: 7.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood and violence, death, angst, trauma and PSTD, smut, hurt/comfort and feels.

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 9: Free to Be You and Me

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

Eisenstein walked forward. Any time you came across a guard, you tased them long enough to touch whatever scrap of skin you could, usually their face or their neck. You added them to your collective control.

Now you had literal bodyguards protecting you as you made your way through the compound. You hadn’t used your powers in so long. It felt good, like stretching an aching muscle.

Once you reached Ben’s cell, Eisenstein stopped in front of it. When you peered inside the small window on the door, it looked misty as hell.

Clear the gas, you ordered.

The doctor pressed a key of numbers on a pad beside the door, and the gas receded into the vents.

Open the door.

He did as you commanded, then he stepped aside for you. You ordered the guards to stand watch outside the open door before you hurried inside. Ben was lying on the floor, mostly on his side. He was still very naked, though your face warmed as you tried not to focus on that part.

It made you sad more than anything. They’d been keeping him in here like an animal, worse than you, and after what he did for you…you could no longer find it in yourself to hate him.

You took his face into your hands and tapped his cheek.

“Ben… Ben, wake up,” you prodded.

His brows twitched. He made a sound of waking, and you swept his hair out of his eyes. Before they even opened all the way, his hand shot out and grabbed you by the throat. It choked a gasp out of you as you scrambled to grab his wrist.

“Ben,” you said with difficulty. “It’s me…”

Though if you thought about it, after the last things you’d said to him, maybe he did really want to kill you. Maybe he regretted saving you after all.

As he blinked more awake, this time he actually took in your face. His hand relaxed when he recognized you. You panted in relief to see it dawn in his eyes. His thumb slightly brushed across your jaw, and your name fell from his lips, almost in wonder.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said with a smile and tears in your eyes. “Come on.”

You helped him up the best you could. His frame was bigger and heavier, and he was still a bit unsteady on his feet. He slung an arm around your shoulders and let you guide him out of the room. He tensed at seeing the guards in their green uniforms and Eisenstein standing there, but you held a hand to his chest. His skin there was hot to the touch. You frowned.

Must be whatever the serum did to him.

Dismay pulsed inside you, but you’d think about that later.

“It’s okay, they’re with me,” you told him with a smile, before you looked at one of the guards.

“Give him your clothes,” you ordered.

The man was compelled to set down his gun, take off his hat and the rest of his uniform, even his underwear, socks, and boots. He gave them all to Ben, who raised a brow.

“I’m good without the briefs,” he said with a grimace, tossing the used underwear to the floor. You flickered at a smile.

“Guess you’re going commando,” you said.

Ben scoffed. He muttered, “Yeah, what else is fucking new.”

A sliver of sadness once again pierced you, but you stayed quiet. He released you so he could get dressed. Biting your lip, you glanced away to give him some privacy.

Another guard turned the corner and noticed you all in the hallway. He raised a pointed finger and shouted something in Russian, then he raised his gun. You ordered your guards to shoot the man, but the damage was done. A red alert was sounding overhead.

“Let’s go,” Ben said. After lacing up his boots, he guided you with a hand on your back.

Eisenstein and three guards formed a pack of protection around you and Ben as you moved through the compound. You slowed to a stop at what looked like a laundry room.

“I need something else to wear,” you said. “Once we get outside, I’m gonna stick out—”

Ben eyed your thin gray gown and socks. He grabbed your arm and led you inside.

“Find something in here,” he said, as if that wasn’t your idea.

Instead of wasting time picking an argument, you just nodded in agreement. You looked around and picked through the large clean bin of clothing. It held several mixed bundles of faded green men’s shirts and pants. Finally, you managed to find a dark red tracksuit. It was a men’s size, so it wasn’t going to fit you, but maybe you’d look a little less ridiculous. Ben tossed you the smallest pair of boots he could find, and they were still huge. They would have to do.

“How do we get out of here?” you asked as you got dressed. You turned around for a semblance of modesty, but it didn’t stop the man from glancing over, checking out your ass, bare legs and back.

“We fight,” he replied. There was a dark note in his voice that you understood, and you agreed with him.

“I know. I mean a little more specifically,” you said. When you were dressed, you turned around and met your companion’s grim look. Together, you two returned to the hall and focused on Eisenstein.

“What’s the best way to get out of here?” you asked him. Your hold on his mind forced him to answer honestly.

“The compound is three stories underground. You must take the elevators up to the top,” he responded, almost like a robot.

“Show us,” you ordered.

The doctor complied. He led the way, and the guards covered your back as you hurried through the maze of hallways. Finally, he led you to the main laboratory. Inside were the rest of the doctor’s team trying to filter out and evacuate, while the rest of the security guards formed a line against you. You saw where the scientists were headed, to a large elevator along the far wall. 

“There!” you pointed, grabbing Ben’s arm.

He held you to him quick when the shots fired your way. He protected you with his body as the bullets bounced harmlessly off his skin, though a few of them tore through his clothes. He turned around but kept you behind him. His hands curled into fists, and he rooted his stance. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you hid yourself behind his broad back.

Ben charged up the power that had already been building in his chest. It had started from the moment they injected him with that goddamn serum.

Now, he knew what it was. It felt like lava inside his chest—a nuclear force that he unleashed throughout the lab. It destroyed everything in its path, from desks and beakers to walls and support beams, to the men screaming and trying in vain to get away.

When it was over, Ben heaved for breath but remained standing. You peered around him in shock.

“Oh my God…”

There wasn’t much left of the lab, just a ruins, and a meager group of survivors, limping, moaning, struggling. Your face evened out, akin to stone. You had no sympathy for any of them. You endured their studies and were forced to hear their thoughts. You knew that these men weren’t men at all.

You decided to finish the job.

“Cover your ears,” you told Ben. He shot you a questioning look, his brows furrowed. 

“Just trust me,” you said.

Then you opened your mouth, and you sang. Your eyes glowed with power, and the force of your siren song gripped every man still alive in the room. They soon began screaming anew, holding their heads as tears of blood streamed from their eyes. That included your guards, as well as Doctor Eisenstein.

Ben was forced to cover his ears, gritting his teeth. It didn’t affect him as badly, but even he yelled in strain.

You released your hold on the room and stopped singing. By then, all the normal humans were dead.

It was your turn to catch your breath. You’d used up a great deal of energy in a short span of time with your powers, and your body was still weak and undernourished. You took an unsteady step forward and nearly fell.

Ben caught you around your waist. He gathered you up against his chest, and you tried to grab onto his arms and keep your head raised.

His gaze flit over your face. “Can you walk?”

You closed your eyes to try and clear the dizziness and black spots from your vision.

“Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute,” you said.

Ben made a sound of impatience. He hefted you into his arms easily. You gasped and held onto him, and he made his way across the ruined lab.

The elevator doors were fried, but the compartment still worked. Without dropping you, he wedged his hand in between the fused metal doors and ripped them open. Then he stepped inside with you in his arms.

You felt the heat still emanating from his chest. You glanced up at him. There, he met your stare. There was so much you wanted to say, and yet, you had no idea how. You wondered if he felt the same way.

He faced forward again, and you did the same. You two rode the elevator all the way up in silence.

You asked him to set you down on your feet when the elevator finally reached the ground floor. It was merely a lobby area with some thick double doors at the end. You practically ran to it, regardless of your unsteady gait. You just wanted to breathe fresh air and see the outside world.

And it was beautiful. You teared up at seeing the gray sky and the expanse of snow-laden mountains in the distance, even though the air was freezing. A gust of wind shoved at you. You held yourself with a shiver and a gasp as you stared out at the expanse of snow ahead. You weren’t dressed for a cold snap in Siberia. 

Ben wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you back. You doubted he felt the cold much with his invulnerable skin. For once you were jealous.

“Come on, there’s a car over there,” he said, pointing to a small parking lot.

The only scientist who escaped the lab was trying to thrust his key into the door lock of his gray sedan. His hands were shaking badly, but he managed to get the key in. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

The scientist slowly looked up, and he saw Ben’s grim reflection in the window.

It was the last thing he saw.

You and Ben bickered over the navigation to the closest airport. You had the map in your hands, not that you could read it very well in Russian, but he claimed his instincts were leading him south. You once again wanted to throttle him.

You eventually figured out the way to the closest international airport, thanks to the small image of a plane on the map. You didn’t have luggage, which made things easier, but you still needed to compel several people into giving you a pair of tickets (in coach, as to not be suspicious—through security and Customs before you could board the next flight to New York. By the time you and Ben actually sat down in your shitty seats on the plane, you were exhausted in every way.

“You can have the window seat,” you offered. “I’m probably just going to sleep the whole way.”

Ben tacitly agreed and slid in first, but he watched you lower down into the middle seat with a tired sigh. You glanced over at him.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Fine,” he answered, his voice deep and stoic as always. He opened up the bag of snacks he’d snuck onto the plane and started chowing down on some beef jerky. He offered you some, and you took a couple of pieces.

It was hard to tell what he was thinking. You felt a bit of anxiety coming off of him with your abilities, though you supposed that could’ve been from the plane gearing up to take off, finally getting you guys the hell out of here.

Or maybe, like you, flashes of the past decade were still filtering through his mind, making this moment seem unreal.

We actually did it. We made it out.

Even so, you weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you. The last time you two had truly spoken, you’d said a lot of hurtful things, even though many of them were hard truths he’d needed to hear.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!”

“The only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

You remembered the sound of his voice, not even angry anymore. Just resigned.

“It was all an act, huh?”

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

The memory of it made your chest sting. It also filled you with questions you were almost afraid to ask.

Did he resent you? Hate you? Was this Bonnie and Clyde escape plan just for convenience’s sake, or…did he actually care about you, deep down?

As you thought about what happened yesterday in his cell, the way he’d saved you from Eisenstein’s experiment—the serum that created the damn nuclear bomb in his chest—you had to wonder…

If he didn’t care about you, why else had he saved you? 

The question continued to revolve in your mind, like discordant notes on a stanza’s refrain, until your exhaustion claimed you.

Flashes of memory scored through your subconscious. They filled your dreams with echoes of pain and the sound of your own voice giving out.

You woke with a start, heaving for breath as panic rose high in your chest and throat. Your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears, and you felt clammy and wrong.

Ben whispered your name sharply. His grip on your arm broke you out of the haze, but it startled you as well. You blinked fast, as if you could clear the nightmare from continuing behind your eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at one of the flight attendants passing by. Ben soon returned his attention to you though.

“Calm down. You’re going to blow our cover,” he said.

You nodded shakily, but you couldn’t help it. Tears welled up in your eyes and made your lips tremble.

“What if they come after us?” you whispered. You were even trembling in your distress. “What if they find us—”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Ben said sternly. “We Kentucky fried all those Commie cocksuckers.”

“I can’t. I can’t go back,” you said, shaking on every word. Your fear, your panic was rising, making your hand clutch at the front of his shirt.

Ben’s frown deepened. He turned toward you and took your face in his big hands, earning a gasp from you. Your watery eyes met his firm ones.

“You’re not going back,” he said. “That shit’s over, you understand me?”

Tears continued to slip down your cheeks, but you gave a jerky nod. He didn’t seem satisfied.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled you in for a hard kiss. Your breath hitched…but your eyes fell closed. You didn’t care that his scraggly beard rasped against your chin. All you could do was focus on the familiarity of his lips moving against yours.

He pulled away slowly, with him seeming to try and gauge your reaction. Your eyes slid open and met his. Your fingers tangled further in his shirt, and you tugged yourself closer, your lips nearing his in askance.

He answered you, kissing you again.

Landing in LaGuardia Airport was even more of a shitshow than it used to be. A mess of people and traffic and tourists and resident commuters, it didn’t matter that it was at one in the morning. Cars honking and people jabbering and the clanking of suitcases rolling across the ground as airport staff droned instructions on the overhead speakers; it was all discombobulating for you, after having spent so long alone and in the dark, with minimal interactions or stimulation.

You had a feeling you weren’t the only one a bit overwhelmed. You noticed Ben’s tense expression and tight shoulders. His head turned at every sharp sound…and even sounds that weren’t there.

You stayed close to him as you two found your way outside the airport. You watched out for him silently, while he kept a hand on your lower back. Neither of you seemed to want to lose each other in the throng. He managed to hail a cab, beating out a businessman who was busy talking on some kind of cordless phone.

You and Ben shared a bewildered look on that one.

Once you were in the cab, sitting beside Ben, you let out a breath of relief. It was still cold in April, and your overlarge tracksuit wasn’t cutting it.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked. You glanced at your companion and gave him a raised finger, imploring him to follow your lead. You had an idea.

“Take us to the nearest department store,” you said.

“At this time? All the stores are closed,” the cabbie replied.

“Just do what she fucking said, all right, pal?” Ben said, none too gently. He was already on edge from the long flight and antsy to get somewhere comfortable.

“Okay, man. Jeez,” the cabbie muttered. He drove off, peeling away from the curb and merging into traffic.

You couldn’t fault Ben; you felt the same way. You laid a comforting hand on his thigh. He glanced at you and calmed, somewhat. He raised his arm and draped it over the back of your seat. You tentatively took it as an invitation, so you scooched over a little to rest against his side.

Let out a long breath through his nose, he looked out the window at the passing scenery of the city. The nightlife all flashed by in familiar colors and sounds of cars honking and music playing in the distance. Meanwhile, his fingers brushed along your shoulder absently. As the car’s warmth seeped into your bones, you tried your best to stay awake.

You and Ben broke into Sears via the backdoor alleyway, next to one vile smelling dumpster. There you veered off into separate ways in the department store.

You chose to grab a cart before you went into the women’s section. You started with the bras and panties and pulled things off the display tables and hangers, regardless of their price. Dear God, I’ve missed real underwear. You even grabbed a few silky, lacy things in the lingerie section, with a secret smile over your shoulder.

You grabbed a razor while you were at it, along with some other toiletries, shampoo and conditioner, a generous pile of makeup, and some other hair and body products.

You later perused with a half-critical eye at the rest of the women’s clothing. Apparently, jeans were a lot baggier in the ‘90s, and you were finding too many crop tops and overalls.

What the hell is this decade? you thought, but you managed to find a few outfits you liked that were still versatile enough to mix and match. You didn’t know when you’d be able to do this again.

Within the hour, you met back up with Ben, who was carrying all of his clothing finds piled up in his arms. You smiled in amusement. Typical man.

He dumped it all into your cart—a few pairs of pants and shirts and jackets and shoes, and even a men’s electrical shaving kit.

“Good call, lumberjack,” you said, eyeing his beard. Ben shook his head and ran a palm over the sheer length of it.

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” he grumbled.

“Ooh, wait,” you said, pointing at a row of suitcases. “That’ll make this easier.”

He agreed. Soon, you had each picked out your suitcases and packed them with your finds. Then you literally rolled out the way you came.

You paused at the door when you heard a clicking sound, followed by the handle turning. A security guard was just as surprised to catch you and Ben as you were to see him. But before he could even raise his gun, you stepped up and touched his face.

Sleep, and forget.

Within seconds, the man’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he slumped to the floor in a heap.

Ben had the next idea of where to go, after hailing another cab. You went along with it, but you thought he could’ve picked something a little more…inconspicuous.

Your eyes were bright, however, when you stared up at the beautiful building of the Plaza Hotel. You had never stayed here before, but it was also the home of the Oak Room. Ben had taken you there for dinner a handful of times, including on your first date.

“Why here?” you asked, glancing up at Ben. He shot you a knowing smile.

“Was feeling a little sentimental, I guess.”

His hand came to rest on your lower back again, and you ventured with him inside to the hotel lobby. It was pristine, as always, with its polished tile floors and vaulted ceilings. It wasn’t check-in hour, so the place was mostly empty, save for a single front desk clerk on the night shift.

That was in your favor though. You two might’ve raided Sears for new clothes, but you definitely didn’t look like the Plaza’s typical guests. With a quasi-flirtatious hand over the young man’s wrist, you were able to compel the clerk to book you and Ben into an entire suite with a king-sized bed, indefinitely, and all complimentary of the Plaza Hotel.

“Enjoy your stay,” he said robotically as he gave you the room keys. You gave him a smile with the glow of your eyes.

“Thank you. I’m sure we will.”

You were run down. You felt it in what seemed like all of the joints, muscles, and sinew in your body when you and Ben got into your suite. The place was lavish and beautifully decorated in soft yellows, crèmes, and beiges, with dark wood furniture, vases full of pink roses, and fine art on the walls, but all you cared about was dumping your suitcase on the floor and dropping face-first onto the bed.

“Oh my God, a real fucking bed,” you said into the clean, soft cotton. It actually brought tears to your eyes.

You managed to turn yourself onto your back as Ben rolled his suitcase to a stop beside yours. He watched you in bemusement.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he said, briefly grasping your arm as he passed by. It warmed a smile and a blush onto your face.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asked. “I’m gonna order some food.”

You shook your head and gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

“Anything. I’ll eat literally anything.”

He went to the phone on one of the nightstands and dialed Room Service. He ordered enough food to feed three of him (and one of him could be a whole dinner party). Satisfied with the promise of fast service, he hung up and started unpacking his suitcase for a change of clothes.

You sat up with a groan. “You can take the first shower. I need a minute to get situated.”

More like, gather your strength. Using your powers so much across the course of your journey back to the States had taken it out of you, beyond what you’d expected. You needed at least a few of days of solid R&R. Make it a year.

Ben eyed you as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Or, you can join me,” he said.

You turned to face him more fully at that. Your mouth parted to reply, but you hesitated. His offer took you by surprise, even though it probably shouldn’t have.

He saw your uncertainty. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t press it. He just nodded slightly, and went into the bathroom to finish undressing. Within a few minutes, you heard the showerhead turn on.

What do you want here? you asked yourself.

It should’ve been a simple question. Somehow, it wasn’t.

But you made a decision. This time, you weren’t thinking three steps ahead. You weren’t thinking about consequences, or what people would expect of you. You just thought about what you wanted, here and now.

Slowly, you got up from the bed. You took a breath to steady yourself, and you went into the bathroom. The mirror was already fogged up with steam. Behind the shower curtain, you could hear Ben scrubbing and humming some tune to himself, making you smile.

You shed the ratty old jumpsuit from your body with slightly shaking hands. From anticipation or nerves, you didn’t know which. After stepping out of the heap of fabric, you called his name softly. You knew he heard it, because the humming stopped.

Ben pulled back the shower curtain to find you standing there, gazing up at him while biting the inside of your lip. His eyes drew down your form, over each and every bare curve. You wondered if he remembered it all with the same clarity as you did, the way his body used to fit against yours.

He reached out his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you into the shower. He slid his free hand around the back of your neck and drew you into a passionate kiss, hotter than the spray from the showerhead beating down on you both. His arm came down around your waist and he turned you around to press you against the wall.

You gasped at the cold impact of the tile, but you welcomed the heat of him. You met his each and every demanding kiss in kind, sinking your fingers through his wet, longer hair and dragging your nails against his scalp. Meanwhile, his hands were everywhere, sliding possessively up your sides, up smooth skin to squeeze your breasts, rolling your hard and sensitive nipples under his thumbs.

You arched into him with a pleased moan. It had been so damn long since you were touched. Perhaps it was a poetic form of irony that he was the last man to have ever fucked you.

Ten long years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about his hands, his mouth, the memories and the feeling of his cock inside you, stretching you, filling you. The thought had you slipping a hand down between his body and yours, roaming down his chest and abs, just to caress the full risen length of him in your palm.

He groaned into your mouth, instinctively pressing himself into your hand and caging you harder against the wall. His lips veered away to kiss and suck his way down your neck. You panted for breath against him.

“Ben, please,” you pleaded. Your hand pumped him faster, twisting along his shaft and goading him to full mast.

He panted with a nod, nosing along your throat. “All right, baby doll. I gotcha.”

He made his way down your body to lap at your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth and teasing you there with the scruff of his beard. You moaned, had to release your hold on him when he took your hand and pinned it by your head on the warm tile. His other hand skimmed down your wet body to cup your mound.

You whimpered, instinctively pressing yourself into his hand. You felt his familiar smirk between your breasts, just before his thumb drew down between the slick folds of your pussy. It swept back up to brush your clit, and you jolted against his hand, releasing another moan. You were so damn sensitive already.

Ben seemed to enjoy it. He took his time working you up, strumming along and inside your slit with his fingers, making you clench on nothing in anticipation. Just when you opened your mouth to snap at him to fucking touch you already, he obliged you, slipping two long fingers deep into your channel.

You gasped and shuddered at the invasion, but it was a welcome one. He built up a rhythm, rocking his fingers inside of you while his thumb pressed and circled at your clit. It didn’t take long before your inner walls were clenching around his fingers as you shuddered your release. Your warmth coated his hand down to the knuckles.

Ben kissed you deeply, cutting off your moaning of his name. From there, he grabbed your thigh and helped you hike your foot up on the soap dish on the wall, so he could make room for himself between your legs.

He used the remnants of your slick to coat himself, before he sheathed his cock deep inside you with one push. Both of you groaned at the feeling, a sweet relief and a tight fucking fit. It was like your body remembered the shape of him.

“You still take my cock just right. Fit me like a fucking glove,” he said, sliding out of you with ease. He eased back in with a snap of his hips, inching you up higher on the wall. You clung to his arms tighter, with your nails biting fruitlessly into his flesh.

“God, yes,” you uttered.

But just when he started picking up a rougher, delicious set of thrusts, Ben faltered as his body locked up on him with the force of his orgasm. He came quickly, too quickly, for him. His brows furrowed as he caught his breath. You picked up on his surprise, and then his frustration—at himself.

“Fuck!” he growled, fisting a hand against the wall.

You were a little stunned yourself, but quickly you had to try not to laugh. Biting your lip, you reached up to stroke his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you panted. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just been a long time.”

After a few seconds of continued seething, Ben met your gaze. Seeing that you weren’t judging him, he reluctantly settled down.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, but you softened into a smile.

“That remains to be seen,” you replied.

He almost huffed. He slid a wet strand of hair behind your ear.

“You still afraid of me then?” he said.

Your amusement faded. You tilted your head at him, raising your brows. He was still inside you, and he asked this question?

But if he was asking you that, then he really did want to know. You grasped his chin and made sure he looked you in the eyes.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, in a tone that quietly demanded. “Am I safe with you?” 

His eyes held a weight you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re safe with me,” he said.

You felt his sincerity. It rang true in his words, and you saw it for yourself. You believed him.

So you nodded. You let your hand fall to his chest. “Okay.”

He nodded as well. Finally, he untangled himself from you and turned off the showerhead, the water now run cold. He stepped out of the shower first, but he turned to give you a hand. You accepted his help as you came out and grabbed a couple of towels for both of you. After you had yours wrapped around your body, you reached for his arm to earn his attention.

He had been honest with you. You felt it was time for you to give him the same.

“Ben,” you said, with a sigh. “Back then, I lied to you.”

He snorted. “Which time?”

You gave a wry look, but you were serious. You shifted closer to him. You both stood there, dripping wet, with mere inches in between while Ben looked down at you, and you up at him.  

“This. You and me…it wasn’t all an act,” you said, as tears began to well up in your eyes. “I just didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.”

Ben hummed in contemplation. He raised a hand to draw a line down your cheek with his thumb.

“Hmm. Well. Maybe you weren’t the only one,” he said eventually.

Your lips tugged at a smile. He leaned down and met you with another kiss, and this time it was a slow, simmering heat.

Ben took his time in the bathroom afterward to shave his face with the clippers and razor he bought. When he padded back into the dining area, by now fully clothed in a shirt and some sweatpants, he found you already eating without him. You were tearing into some chicken parmesan ravenously while watching a show on TV. 

“What’s on?” he asked, sitting down across from you at the two-seater table. He grabbed one of the plates with his steak and potatoes and began tearing into his own meal. He intended to hit the chicken wings next, or maybe the burger sliders and fries.

“Seinfeld?” You sounded unsure. “It just started. Supposed to be a comedy, I think.”

You and Ben watched the episode until the credits rolled, but he shook his head, licking his fingers after finishing his fifth chicken wing. You were drawn to the sight—grossed out, and yet, a little turned on.

“Nothing happened in that whole goddamn episode,” he said.

You were inclined to agree. So what if they couldn't get a damn table at a Chinese restaurant?

“Okay,” you checked the pamphlet TV Guide. “Let’s try…Friends. It’s on next.”

“The One with the East German Laundry Detergent,” was the name of the episode, according to the TV Guide. You actually enjoyed yourself throughout the whole thing. Even Ben laughed at some of Chandler’s lines. You hadn’t heard that rich, boisterous laugh of his in so long, it made you laugh just by proximity.

By the end of the episode, he was finally done picking at the leftover food. You had finished a long time ago, but you liked seeing him sitting more relaxed in his chair, less on edge.

“Now that one was funny,” you said, when the end theme started to play. Ben balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table.

“At least Rachel’s hot, but don’t tell me she gets with that dopey-eyed pussy.”

“Aw, you mean Ross? I think he’s cute.”

Ben shot you a glance, his brows knitting together. You couldn’t help smiling as you sipped at your glass of wine. He got the feeling you were teasing him. (And you were.)

“Come here,” he said, hooking his foot around a leg of your chair. You yelped as he dragged you close enough to take you by the arm and tip you over, into his lap. You allowed it with a laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hand slid up your thigh in your little pajama shorts, while you caressed his cheek and explored the new beard he was sporting. It was nice and trim, along with the smoother sweep of his hair.

“I like this, by the way,” you said. Your nails scratched through his beard playfully. You kissed his cheek. “Very handsome.”

Ah, there it is, the reappearance of that smug smile of his. You decided to take it down a peg.

“I didn’t mind the lumberjack though,” you teased. “I knew no one would recognize us with that shag carpet on your face.”

Ben’s face fell into annoyance. He stood, picking you up along with him. After he brought you over to the bed, he fairly dropped you down onto it, making sure to smack your ass for good measure. You squealed with laughter.

“You wanna fucking sass me? Fine,” he said, raising a brow. “I’ll just have to punish you.” 

“Nooo, don’t do that. I’ll probably like it,” you said, with both amusement and desire glinting in your eyes while you slid your arms around his broad shoulders. You slipped your legs around his waist as well, guiding his hips down against your already pulsing core. 

Ben broke slightly, his amusement peeking through.  

“I don’t remember you having such a smart mouth,” he said. You trailed your fingers across his cheek. 

“I think you’ll learn to like it,” you said, shortly before you lured him into a kiss.  

He fucked you well into the early morning, where you two finally got some sleep. Around mid-afternoon, you woke and ate and showered and continued to relearn each other’s bodies. You spent the entire day and night in that hotel room, recuperating and healing in your own ways. 

Late that night, you rested in the crook of his arm while he smoked a blunt. You’d compelled one of the bell men to find some reefer. You knew it would help Ben sleep better, and it served to calm you down when anxiety threatened to choke you again. 

It was never as bad as it was on the plane ride over, but sometimes it hit you at odd moments. 

Are they coming after us? Does Vought already know we’re here? Will they try to ship us back?

You knew you had been careful, but anything was possible. 

You extended an expectant hand. Ben took one more puff before he handed the blunt over. You puffed a couple of times and passed it back with a cough. 

“I still don’t really like this shit,” you said in distaste. 

Ben chuckled. “You still don’t know how to smoke it, either.”

You sighed in amusement, stroking a hand over his thigh absently. You two hadn’t bothered getting dressed in hours. Cheers played on the TV—something you both could agree on.

“I need to check in with my family,” you said after a while. You missed your brother especially. God, your nephew had to be close to fifteen years old by now. The thought made your eyes water, but with a deep breath, you managed to taper it down.

You turned to the man beside you. “Do you…do you have family anywhere?”

Ben let out another long puff of smoke. 

“Anyone who mattered is long dead,” he said. He looked down at you, meeting your gaze. “You’re all I’ve got.”

You smiled a little sadly, but you grasped his hand and threaded your fingers through his. 

“But I’ve got a score to settle,” he said. The hardening tone of his voice concerned you.

“With who?” you asked. 

Ben reached over to the nightstand and put out his blunt on an ashtray. He shook his head. 

“Everyone,” he said lowly, “in that goddamn Tower.”

You frowned. You released his hand so you could turn over and face him. 

“Ben, I know how you feel, but think about this for a second.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since we got out of motherfucking Siberia,” he said tersely. “Those cocksuckers are gonna pay for what they did.”

You took a steadying breath. “Okay, taking on the team is one thing. But Arthur, Stan Edgar, all of Vought? It’s dangerous.”

“And? Don’t try to tell me what I can’t fucking do,” he barked. 

You glared at him, sitting up and taking the blankets with you to cover yourself.  

“Don’t you fucking snap at me!” Your voice cracked just as firmly as his. “I’m trying to tell you to be careful. Because if not, we could wind up exactly where we were before, or worse. And I told you, I can’t…I can’t go back.”

You began to break down at the end there. Your lips trembled as your anxiety bubbled over, making tears spring to your eyes. They stung hot and escaped the corners of your eyes. 

“Ben, I can’t—” you hiccupped. 

His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, but now, it was less so in anger. He took your face into his hands like he had on the plane, so you’d focus on him. 

“Hey, hey,” he said, earning your attention. “That’s never gonna happen. I’mnot gonna let it happen. But I am going to put all those spineless bastards into the fucking ground where they belong.”

He wiped at your tears with his thumbs. After a brief pause, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips. Then another, a reassuring kiss on your forehead.

He pulled back to earn your gaze.

“Then we take it all back,” he said. “You and me.”

It took you a moment to come back to yourself. You were still apprehensive about this plan, but you knew you didn't want him to do it alone. Nor did you want to end up alone, without him. You sniffed and nodded. 

You and me.    

 AN: 😮‍💨 Did you get hit in the feels? If yes, get ready for more of that. But after their long journey back to the U.S., their relationship is shifting now, hopefully in a more positive way (despite the tough road Ben is setting them on).

Also, there might just be a BMD easter egg in there somewhere. Did you catch it? 😉

Next Time:

More heart-to-hearts, more of "the Plan," and we get a bit more into Ben's side of things...

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward. Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

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